“I brought the car,” she said. “When my Volkswagen wouldn’t start, I took the little sporty-looking thing that no one ever uses. Stefan said it would be all right.”
“I knew, and you did not hear a complaint. There is nowhere you go and nothing you do that is not known to me. We are one,
piccola
.” He ruffled her hair as if she was a child because his body was starting to make demands, and a vampire’s remains were but a few yards away. “Drive home, and I will meet you there.”
As he walked her to the car, she fit beneath his shoulder, so that his body was sheltering her. Alexandria was ashamed of herself for liking the feeling it gave her. She was determined to hold on to her independence with both hands, especially in light of what he had told her might be the fate of her daughter. She had to be strong enough to stand up to Aidan, if she wanted a daughter who was able to choose her own way. She had the feeling Carpathian males had never caught on to the twentieth-century women’s liberation movement.
Aidan watched the taillights of the little car disappear around the curve leading up to the main road. He shoved a hand through his thick mane of hair and turned to face the mess on the rocks. Several weeks earlier, five vampires had arrived in the area. They had moved across the United States on a killing spree, believing no hunters would follow them so far from their homeland. Still, it was known among their people that Aidan Savage resided in San Francisco. Why had they chosen to come here, to take such a risk? Was it because Gregori’s woman was coming? But that was months away. What then? What had drawn the vampires to one of the few places in the United States where a true hunter resided?
He walked across the sand, his strides long and fast. Had they sensed Alexandria’s presence when he had not? Was something else drawing them to San Francisco? He knew several renegades had chosen to go to New Orleans because the city had such a reputation for debauchery, for being the murder capital of the United States. Los Angeles, too, drew them because its frequent violence would hide their handiwork. He hunted there, though, when he recognized their doings.
When he reached the vampire’s body he found it blackened and singed, the hair smoldering. It gave off the unmistakable stench of evil. If this one had stalked Alexandria, no doubt their home was being watched. He looked up at the night sky and sent his challenge. Clouds raced forward, dark and ominous, heralding retribution.
Come for me. You sought out my city, my home, my family. I am waiting for you
. The wind carried his words over the city, and somewhere, far off, like a distant clap of thunder, a bellow of anger answered him, the frenzied barking of dogs adding to the din.
His white teeth gleamed like a predator’s as Aidan sent his silent laughter winging its way to his adversary. The challenge made, he bent over what remained of this vampire. Though he had spent much time with Gregori, he had never seen anything like this before. The vampire’s chest was blown away, but his tainted blood had not seeped out because the wound was cauterized by the blast. The heart had turned to black, useless ashes. He shook his head. Gregori was nature at its most lethal.
Aidan stepped back from the abomination with a sense of sadness and inevitability. He had known this fallen creature, had grown up with him. This man was nearly two hundred years younger than he, yet he had turned. Why? Why did some of them hold out and some give in so quickly? Was it strength of character in those who endured? A loss of belief in any future for those who turned? Mikhail and Gregori struggled endlessly to bring their race hope, yet this man was proof they weren’t succeeding. Too many of them were turning. The numbers increased with every passing century. It was no wonder Gregori was tired of hunting, of fighting the demon that was always within him. How did one hunt former friends, century after century, without becoming as hopeless as those he pursued?
Aidan had to go home. He needed Alexandria’s arms around him. He needed her warmth and compassion. He needed her body burning around his, telling him he was alive and had not become death. But he had become death to many of his kind, those who had turned, those he had hunted, and he knew it.
Aidan, come home to me. You are not deadly. You are gentle and kind. Look at you with Joshua. With Marie and Stefan. Gregori has made you melancholy. So many of my people are lost,
he mourned.
All the more reason to fight, to keep going. There is hope. We found each other, didn’t we? Others will, too.
She sent him an image of herself, of her sweater floating to the floor of the third-floor bath, the master suite steamy from the frothy Jacuzzi.
He began laughing softly, his spirits rising as quickly as they had plummeted. Alexandria was waiting for him, sexy and sweet. Light to his darkness, a beacon to guide him home.
That’s not all I am.
Her voice was provocative. A wisp of lace floating to the floor filled his mind. Her breasts were bare, full, enticing. She was smiling, a siren’s invitation.
You’re keeping me waiting. Show me.
Holding the picture of her in his mind, he moved away from the scarred corpse and began to rebuild the storm’s intensity.
Her hand went to the fly of her jeans. With infinite slowness she slipped each button from its hole. His breath caught in his throat as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and inched the denim over her hips.
Come home and see.
There was need in her voice, a little catch that sent his blood surging hotly. He lifted his face to the heavens, sent clouds whirling and darkening at his command. Like the roar in his blood, the waves leapt and slammed into shore, dousing the cliff with spray and foam. Thunder rumbled ominously, and veins of lightning flashed inside the clouds.
Come to me, Aidan.
She was temptation. She was light while he created the darkness.
Lightning flashed to the ground, lit the sand with a shower of sparks, red tongues of flame licking at his very feet. He could feel her moving in his mind, her mouth on his skin, the sensation taking away the pain of death, the death of an old friend. Losing so many of his people nearly drove him mad.
Aidan raised a hand higher and began to gather the sparks into a fireball. He lifted his face to the wild winds. He could not fathom ever doing this to Gregori. Even if he could defeat Gregori, he could not do this. Yet how many times had Gregori been forced to hunt a friend? A relative? A childhood playmate? How many such stains could one’s soul bear before there was no redemption?
I am with you, Aidan.
Alexandria’s voice was a breath of fresh, clean air, untouched by the evil in front of him.
Your soul is not black. I can see it, feel it, touch it with my own. What you do, you do out of necessity, not out of desire. Your friend fights to save himself. If his soul was black, he would not have stayed to protect me. He would have gone after the second vampire for the joy of the hunt, the kill. He stayed, Aidan. And he has gone to be alone where violence cannot touch him, where he has a chance to wait out his vow. That vow alone should tell both of you something. He is no selfish vampire, not even close to becoming one. He thinks of her. Finish your task, ugly as it is, and come back to me. Think of me. I will often have to come to you with blood on my hands.
There was a small silence. Then he felt the brush of her hand and was astonished that she had reached out to him when she had never been trained. Her fingertips lingered on his jaw and trailed down his neck, conveying tenderness.
I have been in the hands of a vampire, Aidan. You forget, I know the ugliness of evil. It is not in you, as you seem to think You hunt because you must, not from a need to kill. Perhaps at one time those who became vampires were good men, but the men you once knew are long gone from this earth. Perhaps Gregori and you give them peace.
Aidan allowed her words to rinse the sorrow from his mind, the terrible fear and dread that her very presence in his life had allowed him to feel. He shook his head over the irony of that. He had felt no emotion for so many centuries, and now, because Alexandria had come into
his life, he knew the terrible burden, the sorrow of the hunter.
He sent the ball of fire racing toward the dead vampire, his attention now focused on his task. The ball entered the mined chest, and before his eyes the betrayer blackened, withered, became the ash of the earth once again. His gaze on the ashes, he built the wind with one hand. The gust came not from the sea but from the land, scattering the ashes into the waves that would carry them out to a fitting resting place. Aidan whispered an ancient chant to cleanse himself as well as his fallen friend. Squaring his shoulders, he stood tall and straight, then turned to face the direction of his home.
He could hear the sound of water, Alexandria’s murmur of pleasure as she stepped into the sunken tub. He could smell her scent, beckoning him. Smiling, he took to the air, feeling it move over his body, cleansing him.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexandria sat in the huge marble tub, her hair swept up into a topknot, bubbles brushing her skin like a thousand tiny fingers. Aidan paused in the doorway, his face drawn, his eyes holding shadows and a sad, haunted expression she wanted to erase for all time.
When she had felt his deep, disturbing sorrow, she had deliberately sent him erotic images, wanting to help him, wanting to comfort him. From a distance, knowing she didn’t have to face him, it had been easy to allow her imagination free rein. She had been shy at the thought of his return, when she would have to face whatever repercussions her vivid, wanton images had created.
Now though, seeing his beautiful eyes shadowed, haunted, holding such sorrow in their depths, washed every vestige of shyness away. She would do anything to remove that grief.
There was such a weariness in Aidan, he felt he might never move again. He could only stand in the doorway and stare at Alexandria, unable to believe his good fortune, unable to believe she was really with him, really forever in his life. Why him? Why was he the one staring into enormous sapphire eyes overflowing with joy at seeing him? Why not Gregori, who had given so much to their people, who had suffered so much and lost so much of himself in the process? Why not Julian, his soulmate, his twin, so dark and twisted with loneliness? Why was it that the gods had chosen to favor him?
“Because we were meant for one another,” she said softly, reading his thoughts. “Gregori has his lifemate, Aidan, and he has chosen to give her time to grow up. He’ll hold out; he has hope to keep him strong. As for your brother, I know him from your thoughts and memories. He has your strength, and he will endure forever if necessary.”
Aidan raked an unsteady hand through his windblown hair. He leaned his weight against the doorjamb and simply watched her with his unblinking golden gaze. She was so beautiful, so brave. Had he really done anything in his lifetime to deserve her, the happiness she brought him, the joy?
Alexandria shook her head, a slow smile curving her mouth, deepening the dimple that so intrigued him. “Of course you don’t deserve me. I’m so good and brave and perfect.” Her smile was teasing, frankly sexy, and as she shifted slightly beneath the fizzing bubbles her full breasts broke the surface, inviting his suddenly heated gaze.
“And so beautiful. Do not forget beautiful,” he said softly and straightened abruptly, his muscles rippling.
She felt her heart jump in anticipation. “Maybe. You certainly make me feel beautiful.” She tilted her chin, her sapphire eyes sexy, speculative. The look made his blood race.
His hand went to the buttons of his shirt, and he slowly slipped each one free, his eyes holding hers. She didn’t look away or look scared. Instead, she smiled that slow, sexy smile of blatant invitation.
“You have something in your mind,
piccola
,” he murmured softly, his body tightening in anticipation.
She shrugged, a lazy movement that sent ripples along the bubbling surface of the water. “I decided now would be a good time to try out something from one of those fantasies of yours.”
The shirt floated to the floor unnoticed. She had eyes only for him, an urgent singing in her blood, a fire sweeping through her.
“Do I have fantasies?” he asked softly. His body tightened, hardened, wanted, and needed. He could barely speak, barely move.
Her laughter slid over his skin caressingly. “I’d say some pretty interesting ones. But don’t get
too
excited. We’re going to start with something easy.”
His eyebrows rose as he reached down to remove his shoes and socks. His every movement was unhurried and lazy, but his eyes were molten with heat as his gaze devoured her. Alexandria’s breath caught in her throat. He was bending over, that was all, a casual, everyday movement, but his face was so sensual, his body so fluid yet controlled. She bit her lip, her lashes falling to hide her sudden surge of desire.
“I want you to want me, Alexandria,” he chided softly. “I need to know you want me. Do not hide from me.”
In spite of herself, her mouth was already curving in response, her dimples deepening. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, Aidan.”
“Women are beautiful, not men.”
“You are beautiful,” she corrected him. “Look at yourself through my eyes.” It was a teasing challenge.
He found it hard to resist. And there
was
something sexy about seeing himself the way she saw him. The wanting, the needing. The hunger. His hands went to his slacks, pushing them from his hips with a deliberate slowness that sent anticipation curling through her.
“See?” She shifted to her knees in the tub, the bubbles fizzing around her narrow rib cage, her breasts bare and gleaming with beaded water. Her eyes were on his lean hips and hard, jutting masculinity as he stepped into the sunken tub, the bubbles swirling around his legs like tiny tongues lapping at his skin.
Alexandria let out her breath slowly. His thighs were strong, muscled columns covered with fine golden hair. Her hands slid up his calves, urging him closer. She felt the tremor that ran through him, and she smiled seductively.
Her fingertips moved slowly over the sculptured muscles, and her breath was warm and tempting along his heavy erection.
Aidan closed his eyes in ecstasy as her tongue moved in a slow, languid caress over his velvet tip. His stomach muscles tightened as her mouth, tight and hot and moist, closed around him. A groan was torn from somewhere deep inside him. He caught her hair in his fists, dragging her even closer to him, and his body nearly exploded with pleasure as her hands sought his buttocks and urged him more deeply into her. With her mouth tight around him and her soft breasts pressed against his thighs, the bubbles tugging at his calves, and her silken hair in his fists, every thought was pushed from his mind until it was filled only with her, with pure sensation.
Her fingers massaged his buttocks, pressing hard into the heavy muscles, urging him on. He moved, a slow, long stroke, gritting his teeth against the pleasure that nearly consumed him. Her mouth moved over him, again and again. His hands bunched in her hair so hard he was afraid he might hurt her, but he couldn’t control the involuntary response. His mind sought hers, and he found excitement, need, a total sharing of his pleasure. She was aware of what she was doing to him and reveled in it, in her power over him. Every sane thought disappeared, every care, every worry. There was only his body, her mouth, and the feel of her satin skin and the bubbles bursting around them. Fireworks. Earthquakes. White lightning. He found himself helplessly thrusting against her, his head thrown back, his joy and rapture not only physical but a part of his very soul.
Aidan’s hunger rose until the demands of his race overcame him, insisting he put her pleasure before his own. With a soft, possessive growl he pushed her back into the water, his gaze running over her bare skin like lava. She had time for only one inarticulate cry before his mouth was on her throat, her breasts, his hands all over her body. She felt so small, so delicate under his palms, her skin warm and slick with water. He explored her everywhere. Then his fingers found her creamy with need for him. He pushed inside, watc
hing her eyes, and her body responded with a fresh wave of liquid desire. He pushed deeper, his mouth on her now, his teeth scraping her breasts, her stomach. He could feel her muscles clench around him, velvet and hot. He kissed her hips, the little indentation that always drove him crazy, then raised them out of the water.
Slow down, slow down,
his mind repeated, but his body had other ideas. He was on fire, his very skin burning. His mouth replaced his fingers, wanting to bring her to the same fever pitch he was experiencing. She moaned, the sound making him wild. She tasted like hot honey, spicy and addicting. He attacked, on fire with need and love and violent, insatiable lust.
Beneath the onslaught of his mouth, she writhed, cried out. Water splashed over the sides of the tub. Her body clenched, released, wave after wave of sensation spiraling through her. She clutched at him for anchorage as she spun out of control, a terrible, wonderful ride that went on forever.
Aidan finally lifted his head, his eyes hungry, his mouth sensual. He pulled her body to his, wrapping her slender legs around his waist. “You drive me wild, Alexandria. You make me completely insane with wanting you.” His voice was husky, and he was pressed against her, hard and thick, pushing so aggressively that her body was slowly opening, allowing him entrance. The feeling was exquisite, a slow burn, hot velvet clutching him, tightening around him, the friction almost unbearable. His hands pinned her small waist, holding her firmly while he buried himself slowly, deeply in her hot, moist sheath. “Look at me, Alexandria. Know that I am your lifemate and that you are always in my care,” he commanded softly, his golden gaze holding her blue one, forcing the ultimate intimacy, wanting all of her, every inch of her, wanting them to merge completely, body to body, mind to mind, soul to soul.
He began to move then, a slow thrusting of his hips, burying himself deeply with each surge. She bit her lip, the tiny pinpricks of blood triggering the fangs in his mouth. His hands urged her closer yet, so that she arched her body, her head back, her throat vulnerable and exposed, her breasts equally inviting. His tongue took the water from the rosy, hard tips and moved upward, tracing swelling curves until his mouth rested over the pulse in her neck.
Dark Gold (Dark Series - book 3) Page 29
