Last Vamp Standing

by Kristin Miller

  When they reached the elevators, Ariana pressed the button and spun around. Dante’s eyes . . . they were more than yellow, eerier than gold. They were downright metallic, shimmering like flakes of gold dust had coated over them.

  “How do your eyes do that?” she asked, fighting back the desire to stare into them until she went dizzy.

  He rubbed the heels of his hands over them. Blinked hard. “Do what?”

  “Change from black to gold. I’ve never seen anything like it before. After my training session tomorrow we should head back to the library and see if we can find a species that shows the same trait.”

  “Species?” he snapped. “Glad to know you’re treating my time here as some sort of science experiment. You’re not going to slice and dice me like a toad if I follow you up there, are you?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way and you know it.”

  The elevator door opened and he followed her inside. “When I’m hungry, they change, just like yours. I can’t help that my eyes shift to gold instead of crimson.”

  “You can lose the tone,” she said as the elevator doors shut. “When I said I’d never seen anything like it before, I meant it as a compliment, but you were too busy being defensive to catch it.”

  “With you, Ariana, I’m never sure if I’m catching a feather or an arrow. Forgive me for being on edge.”

  As the elevator whisked them up to the top floor, Dante leaned against the back wall, his arms folded over his chest. If he’d opened up at all, he just shut back down.

  She should’ve kept her mouth closed. She should’ve walked into the elevator and slammed him against the wall the instant the doors closed. She could’ve been kissing those pillow-soft lips right now. He would’ve had his knee between her legs, his arms wrapped around her back . . .

  But no.

  She’d made him uncomfortable, ruining a perfectly good moment to slide next to him and brush her hands over the rock-hard ridges on his stomach.

  Had Pike spoken the truth? Did Dante really think being different made him a freak? She supposed he was sifting through books in the library trying to dig up information about the Watchers, while trying to figure out more of his abilities and what he could do with them. She hadn’t really thought about the possibility that he didn’t know a thing about his heritage.

  Soft strums of guilt played on Ariana’s heartstrings. If she’d never known her parents, never known where she fit in, and didn’t have a place to call home, the last thing she’d want is someone to point out all the ways she was different from her friends.

  “If you’re hungry,” she said, lightening her tone, “we could go back down to the kitchen and grab you something. At this hour they should be starting to stock for breakfast.”

  Face puzzling, he shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “But your eyes. You said they change when—”

  As the doors slid open, Dante grabbed Ariana by the hand and pulled her out of the elevator, severing the rest of her thought.

  On this level—her level—there was only one door, with two small tables flanking it. It was good that furniture was sparse and elders weren’t allowed up here, because Dante didn’t hesitate a beat. He spun her around and pressed her back flush against the door.

  Uncertainty should’ve clawed its way through her. Anxiety should’ve buckled her knees and shot her spine straight. Instead, she melted against the wall, aching for Dante to explore her body with greedy hands.

  “I said I’m not hungry and that’s the end of it.” Jaw clenched tight, he planted his hands on the door on either side of her head. He was drawn tight, his shoulders and chest a barricade she wanted crashing over her again and again. “If I think about it too much, I might not be able to do this.”

  She couldn’t think about anything but the electricity sparking between them, the throbbing ache in her center that lifted her hips off the wall and against his body. What did he mean, if I think too much?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s better that way.” As the gold in his eyes flared, he sucked in a shallow breath. “Now what was it you wanted to show me up here?”

  There were a ton of things she wanted to show him—her bed being one of them. Since she’d met Dante, she couldn’t seem to fight the draw to him. Being near him felt right, the attraction undeniable. The thought of being alone with him now, in the privacy of her suite, sent tremors rocking through her body and pools of heat drenching her core.

  Seemed the closer she got to the fire, the more she learned about Dante, the closer she wanted to be.

  Ariana would’ve given anything to remain trapped inside the chiseled cage of his body, but there was a camera in the corner, monitoring their every move. Her Primus had had them installed in every hall, every corner, to observe possible suspicious behavior. She’d never minded someone knowing when she came and went from her room . . . until now.

  She spun around and punched her code into the key lock. The tiny screen blinked green, and she pushed open the door.

  ARIANA’S ROOM WASN’T like the other two Dante had seen in Black Moon. The chamber he’d awoken in had looked like a hotel room, with heavily oiled furniture that made the room reek of lemon Pledge. The Primus’s chamber was cold and spine-chilling, with slick leather seats Dante had to keep scooting his ass into.

  Ariana’s room suited her perfectly.

  It was simple. Understated. White couches boxed off the living room. Glass tables with white shaded lamps sat in the corners. It smelled of lavender. Fresh and crisp like a garden in spring. There wasn’t a lick of clutter. Nothing plastic or fake distracted from the stillness of the place.

  It was just like her.

  She didn’t plaster her face with makeup and didn’t look like the type who’d wear barely there miniskirts and racy tanks. When he’d first met her, it had taken a beat for Dante to realize she wasn’t plain but classically beautiful. Without the distractions of such fluff, her inner beauty shined for those who took the time to notice. And it hadn’t taken more than a minute for Dante to see Ariana for what she truly was: the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, tied with a big ole complex bow.

  Speaking of bow . . . he’d forgotten all about it.

  He clutched at his wrist, where the ribbon Ariana had tied around her braid had been. It was gone. It must’ve slipped off sometime during the commotion in the Watchers’ compound.

  Damn it.

  “Over here,” Ariana said, and he dropped his hand from his wrist.

  She moved around the couch. Snatched a remote off the end table. Dante scoped out the walls for a flat screen and came up empty.

  “I’m not really in the mood to snuggle watching Pure Blood with that overacting Alex fellow, if that’s what you had in mind.” As long as hunger pains weren’t pin-balling in his stomach, he’d planned on seducing Ariana the way he’d wanted to all along.

  “Don’t worry.” She winked, hiding a delicious secret. “I don’t even own a television.”

  She clicked the remote toward the strangely blank wall in front of them and turned toward Dante, the hint of a smile playing her mouth.

  The entire wall buzzed to life, moving, opening. Dante couldn’t help but stalk forward as the wall folded back like an accordion.

  “Holy hell,” he breathed, and stepped out onto a long, secluded balcony the length of her suite. “Is this—”

  “The balcony we saw from down there,” she finished. “It is. And it’s all mine.” She stepped to the balcony and leaned over, pointing down to the grassy bluff. “You can see the world from up here.”

  He went elbows down on the wall beside her, catching sight of Black Moon’s flag hanging just below them. If Dante wanted to, he could reach down and snatch that thing right off its mount. If only everything could be captured as simply.

  After staring down at
the emblem, and failing to catch a glimpse of the mark on Ariana’s arm, Dante took a sweeping glance of the landscape.

  It really was magnificent.

  The ocean seemed to go on forever before bending at the end of the earth. With every heavy crash of waves against the black-rocked bluff, sea breeze sailed right up to them, salty and fresh. Beyond the lawn, the dark of the forest sucked in every ounce of starlight and kept a thousand secrets.

  “What’s through there?” Dante pointed to a parting between two massive fir trees.

  “Our elder cemetery. It’s where I’m teaching class tomorrow.”

  She’d be in the forest? Out in the open, where Watchers could observe her every move? Now that he thought of it . . .

  He scanned the horizon, the forest, and around the east side of the building. “Where is Black Moon’s wall? How is this side protected?”

  Surely they wouldn’t leave this entire wing vulnerable to attack.

  “The wall runs deep into the forest that way.” She pointed past him to the east, then swept her arm toward the forest and sea. “And continues through, about fifty yards, and ends at the bluff.”

  Dante pieced together scattered bits of information. Something wasn’t adding up, and last time he checked two plus two still made four.

  “Elders train on the grounds, right?”

  “Of course. It’s how we remain hidden.”

  “Yet you astral-project from the rings in the forest.” Pausing, he turned toward her. “Why would you do that? Why not project from inside Black Moon? You’d be better protected that way.”

  She tugged at her sleeve, covering the hilt of the branded sword. “I didn’t bring you up here to talk about my astral-projecting.”

  “Why did you bring me up here? To rub in how great your view is compared to mine?”

  “No.” She sighed, and Dante realized how utterly relaxed she looked in the simplicity of this place. It was as if all the wind had been sucked from her sails and she didn’t mind resting still in the sea. “I brought you up here because this is my personal space. This is where I recharge. No one comes up here. Ever.”

  Dante looked at Ariana then, her hazelnut eyes sparkling in the twilight, the corners of her lips turning into a smile. A strange stirring rolled through his stomach, hardening into a knot when she placed her hand over his.

  “I want you to know that you aren’t any different than the elders on our grounds who are learning about their mawares. You’re simply learning about a different part of you. You’re safe here.” She slid closer. “With me.”

  The top of his hand burned from her caress. Why hadn’t she pulled her hand away? “Who says I want to be safe?”

  “I do.”

  The reality check from hell seized Dante by the balls. It didn’t matter how much he wanted Ariana. She was a fool who didn’t know what she was asking for. She couldn’t know him when he didn’t know himself.

  “What makes you think you know anything about me?”

  “I know more than you think.” Her eyes drifted closed playfully, channeling a fortune teller of a forgotten age. “I know your skin heats to radiant levels when I touch you and your eyes drift to my breasts when you think I’m not looking.” She opened one eye, chancing a peek.

  Dante forced his gaze to remain steady, though it drifted toward the swell of her breasts as if they had their own gravitational pull.

  “Physicality is obvious,” he said as Ariana laid both breathtaking hazelnut eyes upon him. “But that has nothing to do with my character.”

  She didn’t know him. She couldn’t. If Ariana knew what kind of a monster Dante really was, what he’d done to women in her position in the past, she’d run for the hills, not poke the dragon with a big-ass stick.

  Still, Ariana brought her face closer to his, teasingly slow, until he could nearly taste the sweetness of her breath. As his stomach dropped and his lips parted, she smiled. But held her ground.

  “I know how hard your heart beats when I kiss you,” she whispered against his lips. “And I bet blood roars in your veins when I do this.” She cupped his face in her hands and grazed two thumbs over the stubble on his jaw line.

  She was right. Damn it, she was right. His blood became fevered, his skin searing beneath her touch. He was in heaps of trouble, too deep to turn back now. As long as he could hang onto a thread of control, no matter how fine, he could sink into Ariana without pulling from her soul.

  Couldn’t he?

  “Still,” Dante said, holding his breath. “Only physical reactions.”

  “You think a racing heart is physical?” Two pounding beats. “I was wrong about you, Dante. You’re not blind at all. You’re just inexperienced.”

  “Inexperienced my ass.” With a swift tug, Dante pulled Ariana into his arms.

  His senses exploded at the contact. Her natural fragrance was feminine, too strong, and hit him like a thunderclap. Her body would feel like velvety heaven sliding against his, writhing beneath him, falling all over him. And her breasts—good Lord—they pressed against his chest until he could feel the tight buds of her nipples through his clothes.

  Unable to fight back the desire a second longer, Dante crushed his lips to hers. Her tongue assaulted his mouth with such unbridled passion, Dante wondered how any man could withstand this kind of assault from her body.

  He couldn’t wait to find out. As long as the voices didn’t surface, as long as he didn’t hunger for her—

  Don’t even think about it. Don’t even let the thought in.

  He couldn’t plant the seed for fear it would fester.

  Dante tugged Ariana against him, relishing the feel of her body against his. She was tiny in his arms, a petite thing that could engulf him in bittersweet agony with the slightest whip of her tongue.

  Agonize him she did.

  Mewing sounds of pleasure escaped her, drifting into Dante’s mouth, hardening him to stone. He let his fingers dance over her beautifully sculpted shoulder blades before he moved toward her neck and latched onto her braid.

  He gave a small tug, pulling her head back, revealing the long, luxurious span of her neck. Her heartbeat fluttered wildly beneath her thin sheath of skin. She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling as if she were afraid.

  But her nails gouged into his shoulder blades, urging him on. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted this.

  He squelched down the surprise rising in his middle. Ariana’s pleasure was rising, her arousal blooming for him. But he wasn’t absorbing an ounce of it. Nothing reached out for Ariana’s soul and latched on to her innocence.

  Not wanting to get too excited, Dante bent low and licked a slow line beneath her jaw, then settled over her jugular. He kissed her there, right on that sweet, pulsing vein, and smudged his mouth along her neck.

  “Dante . . .”

  She whispered it. A single word that carried on the wind and hooked back around—a boomerang of syllables that nailed him square in the chest. The luscious sound of her voice, husky in its pleasure, burrowed deep in his ears, reverberating like a gong off his skull. Goosebumps flashed over Dante’s skin, slowing the pumping of blood through his veins.

  Suddenly, as if a curtain had drawn on their encounter, everything moved in slow motion. Despite the hard-on he was rocking in his pants and the raging desire to lay Ariana back onto the chaise lounge in the corner, he became hyper aware of his situation. Of the slowing of things when they should be speeding along.

  It was the reaction that preceded the gurgle of his cursed demonic voices.

  Dante released her braid and waited . . .

  “What is it?” Ariana brought her gaze back to center.

  “Nothing.” Yet his hands remained flat on her back, his lips far from hers. He had to focus. Had to regain control over his body. He couldn’t lose control . . .

  Whatever he
did to block Ariana’s pleasure from feeding his sick hunger—and damn, did he wish he knew what it was—he needed to keep it going. Those voices would drown out everything and distract him. He could hurt her without realizing it.

  That couldn’t happen.

  Before he could stop her, Ariana scraped her hands over Dante’s head, then hooked them around his neck. She kissed him harder, the urgency escalating with each delicious whip of her tongue. She set fire to something inside him. Explored his mouth. Licked and nipped at his bottom lip.

  If he wanted this, if he wanted her, he had to wage all-out war with one of his greatest demons. He’d have to fight to push them back, bury them down deep in his soul for as long as he could.

  As he gazed into the sparkling depths of Ariana’s eyes, realization washed over him in a cold wave. If any woman was worth the fight, it was her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Sierra Nevada’s haven has fallen, leaving Black Moon as the last running haven in the state. Savage is coming for the elders beyond those enchanted walls. It’s a guess, but we’re not dealing with rocket science.”

  WATCHER ARCHIVE, REPORT ON SAVAGE

  ARIANA COULDN’T CATCH her breath. She couldn’t think about anything but Dante’s hands possessing her body and his lips devouring hers. Which was wonderful in the most dizzying way.

  She wasn’t sure the reason he’d pulled back. The reason his gaze had drifted somewhere she couldn’t follow. It didn’t matter. He’d returned.

  His desperate hands roamed her body as if they had a mind of their own, clawing down her back, gripping and pulling at her waist. Ariana welcomed the onslaught, savoring every fiery touch, every stroke of his tongue against the inside of her cheek.

  Was he as out of breath as she was? As hungry for their bodies to touch skin to skin?

  “Inside,” he mumbled against her mouth.

  Whether he meant he wanted to be inside her, or he wanted them to move indoors, Ariana wasn’t sure. But she sure as hell wasn’t about to open her mouth to question him—she could think of a thousand other things she’d rather be doing with it.