On that note, he flashed to her, too impatient to crawl the last six inches. Crouched, he extended a shaking hand, and ran his fingertips down her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, but aside from that, there was no response.
Good. This was good. Even though his own body was jacked up and threatening to orgasm from that simple contact alone.
Panting, he eased his arms under her, and lifted her gently off the floor. Eve whimpered. He froze, waiting. When she didn’t wake, he exhaled with relief, and made his way into the bathroom, where he carefully laid her on the floor next to the tub.
Peeling the blood soaked shirt off her was its own special type of torture. Fury, need, and guilt pummeled at him with unadulterated glee. He’d known a mating could be some serious shit. He’d known for a long, long time.
Again, an image of Nylicia, bloody and weak, on the verge of dying, flashed through his mind. He’d known, but knowing the facts and experiencing them were two separate things entirely.
Eve’s breasts came into view, and, as if he hadn’t seen them before, Zeniel was debased into a slobbering, clumsy beast. He slammed a fist deep into the ground next to her, his body curling over hers. His cock punched at his jeans, pumping as hard as his chest was, and he swore he heard the zipper holding it back start to slide down on its own. Every rise and fall of her chest pushed those tight, pink nipples of hers up toward him. Tempting him.
Torturing him.
He couldn’t take her while she was out. He wouldn’t. He wanted her awake for what he was going to do to her. Wanted her to remember every moment, so that she and the fucking R’mannev got the damned point.
It was impossible to hate what bound them together, but if the mating had been a solid entity outside her body, he would have kicked its ass. Hard.
Zen willed the rest of Evesse’s clothes off, knowing that his fingers were too clumsy to get the job done. There was blood on her skin, too. Of course there would be, her clothes had been saturated in that shit. Her mating mark was red around the edges, swollen and raised. New lines extended from the bottom, curling around her collarbone. At the top of the mark, close to her chin, an angry gash had just begun to heal. Her skin had opened on its own, blood rushing out of there, as well.
Damn it, he’d never understood how vampires thought, or how they could sink into a bloodlust so extreme that drinking another being’s blood was the only way back out of the insanity.
He got it now. He got it so hard that he was bending over his female before he could stop himself, his tongue snaking out and licking a path up from her collarbone to the still open gash on her neck.
“Oh, fuck.”
It’s not like he’d forgotten how delicious she was to him. That one taste of her blood, however, abolished his common sense.
He needed more.
He latched onto the gash with his lips, taking a gentle pull and moaning when her blood hit his tongue again. He wanted to shove his cock between her folds, come all over her as he had last time, right before he slid into her.
She’s not awake. You sick fuck, she’s not aware.
He never thought to find himself back in that position. Cursing, he pulled away, cracking open his jaw as white-hot agony shot through his incisors, up into his gums, and kept on going until he felt like his head was going to split right down the middle.
He willed the shower on, near incoherent. Lifting Eve into his arms left him with a good, hot feel of all that naked skin.
Damn it, he trembled so hard that he almost dropped her, but once he had her under the water, a part of him eased. Carefully, he poured some of the liquid soap he’d materialized into his hand and began washing the blood off her. The hungry motherfucker inside him wasn’t happy at the sight of her blood running into the drain—it belonged inside him—but there was no denying that washing and caring for her went a long way to soothe the mess battling within him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, materializing a bottle of shampoo and going to work on her hair. Eve’s lids fluttered, and he hoped that a part of her was hearing what he said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, and it never will again. I will never let anyone hurt you again. Especially not me.”
Especially not Rhalira, either, but he didn’t say that out loud. She didn’t need to hear that.
He rinsed out her hair, his chest tight. When he eased her against the back of the tub and moved her black, wet hair away from her face, the urge to kiss her became too much. Gently, he leaned down and pressed his lips over hers, not caring that the water was hitting his head and soaking him.
“I’m never going to let this happen to you again. I’ll make this better for you. I vow it to you.”
The glow of his aura flaring around him lit up the bathroom. He had no idea how he was going to make her forget what she’d seen, but he would have to find a way now, wouldn’t he?
He licked his lips, before leaning in and pressing them against hers one more time. They were plump, soft. He couldn’t stop himself from sucking on her bottom one and running his tongue across it.
Man, he had to stop that shit. Tasting her wasn’t helping. Taking her then wasn’t an option.
Sighing, he pulled back, materialized some conditioner, and went back to work on her hair. Fuck, but it was beautiful. Long, thick and silky, and the conditioner he smoothed through it only made it softer. The way it ran through his fingers was purely artistic. It truly was.
He’d never done this to a female before.
Caring for her this way made him smile, one of those big ass smiles that made his cheeks hurt.
Until he took a good look at her face and remembered she was still out cold, that he’d had no choice but to do that to her.
He finished washing her off, then willed off the water. A simple thought would have had her dry, but he materialized a towel instead, wrapped her in it, and lifted her out of the tub. Making his way back into the room, he made sure to will a fire on in the fireplace. Once he had her on the bed, he materialized another towel, sat next to her, and started drying her off.
He took his sweet time, caressing down one leg then the other. By the time he made it up to her arms, his cock was hurting like a motherfucker, but he was once again smiling.
Chapter 26
Tremors shot down his legs in waves, and standing upright was getting more difficult by the second. Zeniel placed a hand on the headboard, bracing himself so he could lean over Evesse and take her in. Every freshly showered, smooth, deliciously naked inch of her.
Damn it, his mate had had a sexy little body before becoming immortal. She’d worked out and taken self-defense classes with Ismini. Both girls were sculpted as a result. After becoming immortal, Eve’s body had further tightened. The lean, feminine muscles in her stomach, thighs, and arms became a little more pronounced.
Hunger and desire were at war inside him, battling for the title, “Who Knocked Out Zen First.” He was exhausted. His own symptoms, while not as furious as Eve’s, had left him drained. There was just no fighting the need to rest any longer.
Willing his clothes off was a bad idea. He knew it before he did it, and he definitely knew it before he got into the bed with an equally naked Eve.
He would fight his urges like Hercules, but he deserved to feel her.
At least, that’s what his hormones convinced him.
He was gentle as he placed her under the black, silk covers. He wasn’t nearly so careful when he practically flung himself under those covers with her. Skin. Hot, firm, soft skin. Her back was pressed against his side, and when he moved, his dick sprang up and smacked her ass cheek.
Impatient fucker.
The wet tip slid across her skin, marking her. He tensed, almost giving in to the urge to flip her over and slide into her right then and there.
Groaning, Zeniel reached down and moved the most sensitive part of himself away from temptation. He got no more than a centimeter away from her though. No, the moment his hand wrapped around his shaft, all control shot
out of the room.
He slid his nose against the shell of her ear, taking her scent into himself. He couldn’t decide what ached worst: his teeth, his heart, or his balls. Fuck, his cock was throbbing so hard that his tip vibrated inside his fist.
Pain. He needed some. Maybe if he hurt himself he could regain some damn control. With that goal in mind, he tightened his hand as viciously as he could. His hips shot off the bed, pushing his dick deeper into his hold.
Guess not.
Miserable, he ground his teeth, realizing that this was beyond what any male could endure. Every instinct that made him a mated male was demanding his female, and it wasn’t going to get easier until he fucking did something about it.
So, he did. He turned just enough to press his cockhead against Eve’s ass cheek. Pulling her closer, he moved her hair out of the way so he could latch onto the still open gash on her mating mark.
He didn’t even pump his fist, he merely held fast and sucked her blood into him, which was almost enough to set him off right there.
Longing and pleasure sliced through every cell, merging with her hot, powerful taste.
He would have given everything to have her awake and staring into his eyes. Moaning for him in that sexy little breathless way of hers.
“I need you, baby,” he rasped in her ear, his tone needy. “I’d give anything for you to be awake. For you to feel how hard my cock is for you. I’m leaking already, and you’re not even touching me.” He leaned down and took another few pulls on her neck. “God, female. I want you to use me. Drain me dry. All I can think about is how your lips would feel.”
His hips surged, pushing his cock up before dragging it back through his fist. The moan that left him was deep, rough, and seemed to echo throughout the entire house.
Eve didn’t move, but a small mewl emerged from her parted lips.
“Fuck, baby. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Zen didn’t care whether those words made it past her subconscious or not. What he felt for her was eating him alive from the inside, frying all of his nerve endings with every thrust of his hips.
Panting, he caressed his cockhead softly, his eyes closing as he leaned toward Eve’s mouth and licked the corner of her lips. “I want you to suck me. No one ever has. Fuck, baby, you’d make me come so hard. So fucking . . . shit.”
His back arched, pressing his dick into her warm body and riding out his orgasm as love and lust seemed to explode inside him. Moaning raggedly, he pumped his fist faster, jerking his cum out onto her ass and thigh.
“Eve,” he cried, pleading and trapped by the hellish need to feel the inside of her, to have those hot walls wrapped around him.
Coming on her was satisfying in its own right, but it wasn’t enough. It was all he could do to stop himself from falling upon her. Fuck, the spasms still gripped his muscles minutes after he’d stopped coming. His lungs were going to collapse. He couldn’t seem to get enough air to feed his rioting heart. His ribcage felt like it was taking the beating of a lifetime under the abuse the organ was giving it.
He should have been sated. Keywords being should have. If anything, he was hornier than ever. The only good thing was that he was too exhausted to move, let alone take his R’ma in her sleep.
I am one hell of a catch. A picture-perfect mate. Yeah, okay.
Eve’s head tilted to the side, and she made a small sound that left Zeniel frozen. She was about to wake. He could sense it. With a harsh curse, he flung himself away from the bed. Landing on his knees on the floor, he braced himself and closed his eyes.
Focus, you selfish asshole. Focus.
He couldn’t let her wake up. Not after what he’d done. Her symptoms would eat her alive if she came to with his cum all over her and the mating still attacking her. Even knowing this, he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret that he’d marked her. Fuck no, he’d never regret that.
His body was all out of whack, his focus totally wrecked. And, yet, he had no trouble bringing himself to trance this time. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Evesse was in need of the serenity he could give her. It was that simple. When she needed something, he gave it to her. She was his body’s master in that sense, and apparently that also included his powers.
Once he was sure she would stay under, he opened his eyes and stood up. Standing over her, taking her in, he clenched his fists in anger.
A kiss had done this to her. Not that he hadn’t witnessed what an R’mannev was capable of before.
He had no clue how Nylicia had stayed alive for fourteen millennia. Only Destiny could be responsible for that, and Nylicia was the poor pawn left to rot in her hell because of it.
She wasn’t the only one either.
The fire he had willed on earlier bathed the room in an orange glow, illuminating the sticky evidence he’d left on Evesse’s thigh. Tilting his head, he tried really hard not to be pleased by the sight.
He failed.
Zen thought about cleaning it off. He wasn’t going to. Every part of him loved seeing it there, and therefore it was staying. He wanted her covered in him, even if it meant that—despite his own exhaustion—he had to stay awake, and make sure she stayed in her trance.
So be it. He didn’t need to sleep. What mattered most was watching over her, anyway.
Morning had come and gone, and he still hadn’t been able to attempt rising Evesse out of her slumber. He could sense that she still wasn’t ready, and at some point during the night, she’d begun having nightmares. The soft pleading sounds that had left her cut into him.
He stood in front of the window, his cell phone to his ear, and stared out at the woods.
“And you’ve managed to keep her under this long?” Vedlyl asked.
“When I can manage to keep myself away from her, yes. If I touch her for too long, she starts coming out of it and then I have to focus on putting her back into trance.”
“Is it difficult for you right now?”
“It was at first. Getting easier now, though.”
He could hear Vedlyl moving around on the other line. “So Mavrak isn’t bothering you anymore?”
Zeniel almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that question. That floodgate had opened, and he’d already admitted to himself that there would be no closing it. Not again.
“If that was the case, you’d be here helping her. You can do more for her than I can. Damn, I’m not even male enough to leave her side so you can come.”
“Don’t take it like that. The longer you’re mated, the stronger the instincts become. You know how it works. They get more out of control with every week that passes, and you’re going on over a month. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Dyletri almost ripped my arm off when I went to check on Ismini the other day. At least you’re not a God that just happens to also be part-wolf. I’m not looking forward to dealing with Cy once his mating and bonding symptoms start to hit him.”
Zen still couldn’t believe that Cyake had forced himself on Spari like that. He was the reason she had been cursed and subsequently punished in each of her incarnations. Vedlyl had recounted Ianthen’s version of what happened last night. Spari’s reaction when Cy had gone God of Prophecy on her was more than understandable. Considering what she’d been through because of him, she had probably under reacted.
Now, it was only a matter of time before they both fell victim to what Cy had prophesied. Whenever he allowed himself to channel the power of Fate, whatever he said always came to pass.
Always.
Zen was a walking testament to that.
There’d never been an exception. When prophecy was delivered via the usual riddle-lingo, it usually took centuries or more before it happened. When Cy said something was going to happen in a straight-forward manner without the riddles, as he’d done last night, it was a matter of weeks. Months at the most.
Cyake’s exact words the night before had been “you shall be mine.” No riddle there. No room for misinterpretation. Just a whole lot of blatant claiming.
>
“There’s something else,” Vedlyl said.
Ah, shit. His tone didn’t bode well. “What?”
“You have a great-grandniece. And by great, I mean over eleven-hundred generations great. Congrats.”
Zen’s heart seemed to stop for a second, then took off at full gallop.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, barely stopping himself from crushing his cell in his grip.
“I ran a scan into Soleria’s ancestry. Had to go back nearly twelve thousand years, but turns out she’s related to you on your father’s side. Makes sense when you look at her, too. No human has hair that color.”
Thoughts racing, Zen took a step back away from the window. “What are you saying? You said she’s my great-grandniece.”
“Apparently, your father had another son. Whoever he is, or was, he had a daughter with a Vy’shi. Through that female’s bloodline, which eventually merged with another human’s, Soleria’s genetic code was passed down. So, as I said, congrats. You’re an uncle. Sort of.”
“But . . .” Zen shook his head, the ramifications of Ved’s announcement pin-balling off the sides of his skull. “But . . .”
“It’s a never before-heard-of combination. I know.”
Never-before-heard-of because it didn’t happen. Genetically, the war Erencei and the Vy’shi were programmed to repel each other. It would be like throwing a cat and a dog into a cage and expecting them to mate instead of one killing the other.
Yet, it had apparently happened, which meant that Eve’s best friend was related to Zeniel, even if their relation was separated by thousands of generations. Something that didn’t matter to a being as old as him. She carried his blood, and it obviously wasn’t completely diluted. If Ved had found it, then chances were good that she had a strong dose of both species in her.
It also meant that he might still have a brother out there somewhere.
No one had told him. He’d never known. Was his brother also the son of Persicutis? Or had he’d been fathered with another female?
Blood Stained Tranquility Page 24
