Then he spied the scars on Jane’s abdomen, and thoughts of offering her the choicest of meats fled, right along with thoughts of his family. Hunger of a different nature asserted itself. He ached to commit murder. Those scars…Dark Abyss… He’d known she had them, but not how many or how deeply they cut her.
From her navel down, she looked as if she’d been sliced up and sewn back together by a blind weaver. Thick, red scars crisscrossed in every direction, badges of pain most in the world would probably never experience.
How had she survived whatever had been done to her?
Whoever had hurt her would die, just as the guards who touched her had.
She deserved pampering. Not just the food from his table, but gowns of rich velvet and a bed of the finest goose feathers. Never would she work. She would relax, enjoy, perhaps spend her days naked, lounging in his bedroom, and her nights sweat soaked from passion.
He would feast from her body, her veins. Sample every part of her, dining between her legs at his leisure. Riding her hard and fast, letting her ride him slow and sweet. Taking her in every position imaginable, then perhaps inventing a few. His cock hardened, already aching.
She needs her rest. Needs to heal. Deep breath in, deep breath out. But gods, much more of her incredible scent and he would fall on her, perhaps drink too much of her blood. She was like the morning dew on the petals of a rose, fragile, and he must always be careful with her.
Trembling, he reached out to smooth that honey hair from her brow…. When he saw his hand, he stilled. Turned his palm up to the moonlight. Wiggled his thumb. Healed. He was completely healed; there was no pain.
How much time had passed?
How long had he left Jane unguarded?
He looked around with fresh eyes, astonished by what he found. Enough time had passed for her to construct a hut, weapons, wash her clothing and his body. He was the man, the warrior, yet she had taken care of him.
Mine. Worthy of being queen.
She’d told him she did not have a man waiting for her, and he was glad. Had she, he would have killed the man. Not painfully, not unless the man had once hurt her, but he would have died all the same. After Nicolai found a way into her world. And he would have done so. No one but him would lay claim to this woman, not in any time or in any place.
And if you have someone waiting for you? Someone you’ve forgotten? He frowned, not liking the thought. Fidelity was important. Jane had said as much. He didn’t know a lot about himself, but that he, too, believed.
But…he wanted Jane. And right then, he could not even conceive the idea of wanting anyone else, of being with anyone else. Ever. Truly, every cell in his body burned for Jane, only Jane. Somehow, she was already a part of him. Somehow, her essence was rooted so deeply inside him, he suspected they had always been destined to meet, to be together. But… If someone was waiting for him, what would he do? Despite his fearsome temper, he revered the law and never went back on his word. Right?
Perhaps. But… There was that awful, awful word again. The law, his honor, fidelity, none of those applied to this situation. If he didn’t want another female, he wouldn’t accept another female. He wouldn’t cheat Jane. It was as simple as that.
While he thought himself somewhat decent in this matter, he did not think he fought honorably. He thought he won his battles through fair means or foul, and punished his enemies without a shred of mercy or remorse. Look at what he’d done to the guards of the Queen of Hearts.
And many years ago, he had led his army through the Wolfyn realm, the moon hidden behind clouds, the citizens of one of the kingdoms sleeping peacefully in their beds. He and his men had razed the entire structure. He’d hated to do it, but that hadn’t stopped him. Anything to save his brother….
A sharp pain, his mind shutting down. The memory, lost. For the most part. Once, he’d led an army. He’d thought such a thing before, but now he knew. He had. He’d led them. But…an army of what? Other vampires? Mercenaries? Or had he been royally sanctioned?
The answers were not forthcoming, and he gritted his teeth in renewed frustration.
He focused on the here and now. On Jane. He was willing to fight for her. He wanted her in his life, and she might very well protest. If so, they would verbally brawl and he would do anything to keep her.
At last he smoothed the hair from her cheek and…
She had a black eye.
Nicolai stiffened, rage blooming through him, stronger than ever before. Someone had hit her. Who had dared hit her?
The animal instinct roared to the surface, snarling, desperate for blood.
Calm, he had to remain calm. For now. Was she injured further? As tenderly as he was able, he rolled her to her back. There were no other bruises on her face. The long length of her lashes cast spiky shadows over her cheeks, and he traced them just to be sure. They were smooth, soft and warm. Her lips were puffy and red, as if she’d chewed them from worry.
Didn’t matter. She was beautiful…a priceless work of art.
There were several cuts on her hands, but those came from the making of the blades. He had borne those same cuts on multiple occasions. Another memory, and it came without pain. He did not pursue it. Jane was more important.
Bruises wrapped around her rib cage, stretching from her back, where she’d been whipped. Thankfully, though, she possessed no other battle marks. So. How had she gotten the black eye?
She shifted in her sleep, and another pained groan left her.
Her back must agonize her in this position. He should have left her on her side. Could he never do the right thing where this woman was concerned? He eased back down and gently worked an arm under her shoulder. Then he lifted her until she was plastered to his side, her injuries free of all contact. She burrowed her head in the hollow of his neck and raised her top leg, fitting herself against him like the puzzle piece she’d once praised.
She flattened her hand over his heart, as if measuring the erratic beat against her own. So trusting she was, so trustworthy. She hadn’t left him when she’d had the chance. So forgiving, too. He’d allowed her to be whipped, yet still she’d taken care of him. Had even, he mused, cleaned his teeth. His mouth tasted fresh, like mint.
She groaned again, but this time, oh, this time, there was no pain in her voice. Only pleasure. Such a decadent sound. Instantly his cock stood at attention, filling, hardening, readying. He bit his tongue, his fangs sinking deep into the tissue.
“Nicolai?” Jane breathed sleepily.
“All is well, Jane. Go back to sleep.”
“No, I—”
“You’re right. You may sleep after you tell me who hit you,” he interrupted before she could make a demand of her own.
“You did.” Warm breath trekked over his chest, tickling his skin.
“What?” he shouted. “Me?”
“Accident. No worries. And I didn’t mean to cuddle up to you. I’m sorry.”
She was sorry? “Jane. I am sorry.” Shame beat at him more stubbornly than any opponent ever had. “Name a punishment and I will render it against myself immediately.”
“No punishment necessary, you silly man. I told you, it was an accident.”
Even in this, she forgave him so easily. Her worth far surpassed his. “I will never hurt you again, you have my word.”
“You were out of it. You couldn’t help yourself. I’m just glad you’re finally awake. I’ve been so worried.”
She was going to roll away from him, he thought, feeling her muscles bunch, preparing for movement. He tightened his hold on her. “No. I put you here.” And here you will stay.
“Oh,” she said, and he couldn’t decide if she was pleased or upset. “Are you, uh, thirsty? For blood, I mean.”
Yes. “No.” She was in no condition to feed him. But even the idea of tasting her had his fangs extending, moisture filling his mouth.
“Okay. Well, you might be wondering about the number of times I bathed you, but I promise you I never
touched you more than necessary. Okay, maybe I did, but not by much. And I cut up the hem of my gown to use as rags, so that you wouldn’t have to endure skin-to-skin contact while you were out.”
Endure? The thought of her delicate little hands on his body caused his testicles to draw up tight and his erection to throb, close to exploding. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“My pleas— I mean, you’re welcome. So how are you feeling?”
“Better.” Now that she was relaxing against him. “You?”
“My legs hurt.”
Her legs, not her back. It was the first complaint she had ever uttered, yet she’d cast no blame his way. Determination consumed him, suddenly and completely, blending with a sense of urgency. “Hurt, from the walk?”
“From an old injury.”
“Tell me.”
“Car accident.” She paused. “A car is a vehicle used for traveling along roads at high speeds. Anyway, two of them smashed together. I was inside one. My family, too. I survived. They didn’t.”
He could not imagine what she described, but could identify with her pain. “I will make you better.” He eased her to the ground and sat up.
“You can’t. Only time can. I only just started walking again a few months ago.”
“You could not walk?” When he turned and moved between her legs, a hot blush flooded her cheeks and she quickly covered her breasts and stomach. She also kept her gaze on the large emerald-and-white leaves forming a barrier between them and the sky.
“Not for almost a year. So, hey, did I tell you that I washed my gown and that’s why I’m practically naked like this? The material wasn’t dry, and I didn’t want to wake you up if I accidentally rubbed against you and the gown was cold and wet. But I probably should have risked it,” she babbled. “My scars, I know how ugly they are and as perfect as you are, you’re probably used to perfect women, too. I mean, not that you had a choice with Laila, and not that she’s perfect. But before her you probably—”
“Jane.”
She licked her lips. “Yes?”
“Let’s tackle this one issue at a time. You think I’m upset by your nakedness?”
“Well, yes. After what Laila did, I—”
“You are not Laila.” And every part of him knew it.
“I know that, but you are a victim of sexual abuse and I…I just don’t want to push the boundaries and upset you.” Upset him? Him? “I’ve told you how much I crave you, Jane.”
“Well, you needed me to save you. You might have been buttering my toast, so to speak.” When he looked at her blankly, she added, “You know, softening me up so I’d do what you wanted.”
Indeed, that had been the plan. From the first moment he’d spied her, however, everything had changed. He’d operated only on instinct. “You are also too smart for your own good and convince yourself of the silliest notions.”
Her eyes narrowed, just not enough to hide the fire inside them. “Anything else you want to complain about, you lazy vampire?”
His lips twitched. Even angry, the woman wasn’t concerned with his new position. Her knees were poised at his hips, his erection lifting his loincloth and nearly brushing what was definitely the sweetest spot in this world or the other. Despite her insecurities, she trusted him completely.
She was uncomfortable about her nudity for reasons that had nothing to do with him, and that he couldn’t allow. “You know I’ve…climaxed recently,” he said.
“Well, now I do,” she replied cautiously.
“The last time was the morning of your arrival. Mere hours before, in fact. And not once, but twice. Yet, look at my cock, Jane.”
A slight gurgle was her only response.
“Look at my cock,” he repeated.
This time, she obeyed. Slowly, slowly, her gaze lowered. She gasped when she spotted the angle of his loincloth.
“If I did not want you, I would not be hard.”
“I know.” A heated sigh.
“Any time you doubt your appeal, just look here.” He fisted his length and moved his hand up and down, up and down, hissing in a breath at the painful but very necessary pressure. “You’ll remember how exquisite I find you. So much so you are in constant danger of being devoured.”
“But my scars…”
“Your scars simply prove how strong and capable you are. They prove you survived a terrible accident. They are lovely.”
“Really?” she squeaked, her cheeks brightening another degree.
“Really. And just so you know, there are no boundaries with us.”
“There aren’t?”
He stopped his assault on himself before he spilled. “No.”
“But…but…there are always boundaries.”
Oh, really. “Is there something you don’t want me to do to you? Some place on your body you don’t want me to touch?” He was tense as he awaited her response. He could have misjudged. He could be wrong about her feelings.
She gulped. “No.”
He relaxed. “It is the same for me. Therefore, no boundaries.”
“Okay, I believe you. But I—I don’t think we’ve explored all the ramifications of this.”
“This.” A sexual relationship? “I think you think and reason too much. We will mate. One day. Not today, but soon.”
Another sigh, her entire body sagging into the ground. “I know that, too. I’m too attracted to you not to give in.”
He loved such an open, honest admission. “Good. Now. Have I covered everything that worried you?”
“Well.” She chewed at her lip until a tiny bead of blood formed. “I’ve been thinking.”
“I have already mentioned that you do that far too much.” Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out, collected the blood with the tip of his finger and licked it away. Her flavor, as sweet as her scent, fizzed and crackled over his taste buds, and he moaned. Dark Abyss, nothing had ever tasted that good. The need for more grew…grew…until he was sweating, panting, fighting for control.
He would not fall on her. He would not.
He had known she would delight him in this way, but he had not expected this.
“I could return home at any second,” she said, unaware of the change in him. “I mean, you’re free now and isn’t that the reason you summoned me? So it stands to reason that the magic that brought me here will soon begin to fade, whether you want it to or not.”
“No,” he practically roared, his hunger forgotten in the face of his sudden terror of losing her.
Her eyes widened. “No?”
“I will not allow it.” Not now, not ever.
Ever? Yes, he would keep her forever. Would never let her go.
“Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “You won’t allow it, so it won’t happen?”
Sweat beaded on his brow as he sat back on his thighs. “I am not safe yet. Therefore, you have not fulfilled all of your duties.” He would remain in perpetual danger, if need be. He’d lost so many loved ones already. He could not bear…the pain. The damned pain, wiping his thoughts. “That subject is now closed.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Are you always this grouchy in the semimorning?”
Only when you talk of leaving me. “Would a grouchy vampire tell you that you are the most beautiful female he’s ever met?” he asked, determined to soothe them both.
A luscious softening of her eyes, her mouth. “No.”
“Then I am not grouchy. Now close your eyes and relax.” If that ocher gaze met his, he would forget his purpose, lean down, kiss the breath right out of her, then work his way to her vein. And if his teeth sank inside her, his cock would expect equal measure. “I’m going to ease your hurts.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FEMALE he’d ever seen? He must be seeing Odette, then, Jane thought. Thin might be in, at least where she was from, but there was such a thing as too thin and Jane was it. After the accident, she’d been bed bound and tube fed. When she’d finally woke
n up, able to feed herself, she’d learned of her family’s demise and hadn’t had an appetite.
Now that her appetite had reasserted itself, she’d been forced to exist on only fruits and nuts.
Fruits…nuts…hmm… In that moment, she realized she was starving. For a juicy steak and a side of fries—on top of another steak. The food could wait, though. She was also starving for a man’s touch. A touch Nicolai gave her. Liberally. His strong fingers massaged her calves, deep and hard, hitting her just right. Moaning, she sagged against the moss beneath her.
“Too much?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Perfect,” she managed to gasp out. She kept her eyes closed, as he’d demanded. Not because of his order, but because his fangs were still out. There was a slight slur to his words.
Those fangs scared her as much as they aroused her. She’d seen the harm they could do, ripping through flesh and bone, but also wondered about the pleasure they could bring. Every time she wondered, she shivered.
Hell, even now she shivered. If he was hungry, she was going to feed him, she decided. After this massage, she would owe him a kidney, anyway. Because, oh, sweet mercy, nothing had ever felt this good. Not even grinding on top of him—in her fantasy and in reality—and that had felt like heaven.
Okay, so, maybe the grinding had felt just as good.
He worked on her calves for over an hour, and by the time he moved up to her thighs, she stopped trying to conceal her breasts and scars. Why should she? He’d already seen them and had claimed to find them exquisite. Her arms slid to the ground, useless. God, the man’s hands were magic.
Magic. Yes. Somehow, he was using magic. Warmth flowed from his skin and into hers, an unnatural warmth, a drugging warmth, intoxicating her, stealing into her muscles, her bones, until every part of her was tingling—and his property. Oh, yes. Whatever he touched instantly became his, existing for him and only him.
When his knuckles brushed the edge of her panties, every nerve ending she possessed roared to sudden life, reaching for him. Soon she was panting, groaning, trying to anticipate his next move. At her knee, he rubbed, then stroked up, gliding along her thigh, sweeping over—yes, there, please there, almost, almost—only to pause, not quite stroking where she most needed, before reaching for her other thigh. She had to bite her lip to cut off her plaintive cries for more.
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