She pushed up, balanced on her palms on his chest, and stared at him.
“You’ve got to stop looking at me like that,” he said.
“Like how?”
“Like the best sexy-librarian fantasy I could ever imagine.”
Darting a glance around, self-conscious, she reached for her glasses.
He manacled her wrist in his hand. “Keep them on. A naked beauty in glasses sitting on top of me? Delicious.” He drew her arm to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Shivers shot through to her core, and she shifted her hips, trying to relieve the need for him there.
“Do you want more, ålskling?”
“I want to ... but it’ll hurt.” She bowed her head.
He brushed her hair back and framed her face with his hands. “It won’t hurt if you’re making the choice. I promise.”
“Help me,” she whispered.
“With pleasure.”
He sat partway up and guided her hips forward and down onto his erection. She eased down his shaft, gasping as her muscles stretched to accept him. His hard and silky length filled her completely. Pulling her hips up and down, the friction made her want more. Her palms moved quickly on his chest as his breathing rate increased.
“Oh wow.”
“Try sitting up, ålskling.” He panted.
In doing so, the movement shifted him even deeper inside, and she bit her lip.“Dante.”
“Kristus, you’re perfect.”
She shifted, rubbing against him until he grasped her hips. When he moved one hand to pinch her swollen nub, she couldn’t contain a cry of pleasure. He slid his other hand to her breast and stroked her until she couldn’t think coherently.
Their moans and gasps filled the room as she rocked faster against him. It wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him.
“More,” she whispered and gave herself into his hands.
He grasped her hips. When he pressed her onto him, he met her with thrusts of his own, hot, hard strokes consuming her, marking her. She relaxed her hips and gave into the mounting rhythm, grabbing his forearms for support.
God, this is like flying through heaven.
He moved faster than she could register, blending sound and pressure into a swirl of pleasure. When she leaned back to hold on to his bent knees, he rubbed her exposed flesh, making her inner muscles clench in delicious response.
The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Every inch of her body contracted and expanded in ecstasy. When she squeezed around him, his release came at the same time. On and on the rolling pleasure consumed her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear. Her vision had reduced the room around them to sparkles of light.
Unable to control her body or mind, all barriers dropped and transfer flowed between them, amplifying the orgasm. They were linked body and mind as her healing ability pulled his essence into her skin. The texture of his blood, his thoughts, his soul linked with hers and intertwined across the connection. Even her heart began to beat in time with his.
After what seemed like forever, she collapsed forward onto his chest, still joined to him. Their damp skin connected them from neck to hip. As his breathing slowed, Dante pulled the blanket over her and wrapped his arms around her. She never wanted him to let go.
• • •
Contentment, such as he’d never experienced before, oozed through Dante’s entire body, pressed as he was against Hannah’s soft frame. He throbbed, still lodged inside of her. If his kind could die, he’d gladly expire in this manner, here, beneath this woman.
He stroked her back until quivers rippled over her skin. Her tiny body fit within his arms as if by perfect design. And she fit him elsewhere just as perfectly.
As if on cue, his cock hardened. Hell, every part of his body knew exactly what it wanted.
Hannah.
With her glasses since discarded, she rose up on her arms and pinned him with a golden-flecked stare. He wanted to drown in those soulful eyes. Forever.
Forever. Kristus.
Skimming his hands over her subtle curves, her shivers gave him satisfaction no other woman could match.
She snuggled into his broad chest and kissed and licked until he growled. In turn, he tightened his arms until she squeaked.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.
“I know.”
He caught a flicker of her smile as she lowered her mouth back to his neck and chest.
He promised to keep her safe. But truly, could he?
Safe. A nice illusion for now, but one he couldn’t sustain. At some point, evil would catch up to them. Then what?
Then he’d do whatever was required to save her.
Would it be enough?
A nip with her teeth distracted him from black thoughts, and he gladly buried his hands in her silky hair.
“You have to stop.”
She froze. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll retaliate,” he growled.
To demonstrate, he thrust his hips upward.
“Oh.” She gasped. Then smiled.
Dodging his hands, she dipped her head and worked on his nipple. How did this small woman turn him into a pile of mush with only her mouth? At another flick with her tongue, his breath hissed out.
“Now you’ve done it.” He pressed his mouth to hers as if he needed to consume her.
She panted. “Done what?”
“You’re addicting. Like a drug,” he said.
“Do you want a cure?” she asked, breathless.
He flipped her over on her back. “You’re the cure for me, ålskling.” He entered her again in one smooth thrust. “It’s my turn.”
Hooking his arms under her knees, he pulled her legs up and outward as he rocked into her. She was open completely to him. Trusting. Beautiful. And he wanted even more.
With her legs still draped over his arms, he gripped her shoulders, pulling her into him hard with each thrust. He wanted to surround her, wanted to give her unimaginable pleasure. Wanted to erase hell and replace it with heaven.
He paused and studied her face. No pain, only ecstasy. No hesitation. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” She opened her legs wider to welcome him.
With a harsh growl, he locked his hands on her shoulders and drove into her. Waves of desire, of hunger, consumed him until his entire existence narrowed down to the woman in his arms.
When they broke at the same time, the orgasm exploded even greater than the first one. He never wanted to let her go. He leaned back to watch the shudders roll through her frame, felt the tightness around his cock as her muscles contracted. In hundreds of years of existence, he’d never seen anyone as perfect as this woman.
• • •
Day had flowed into early evening. They’d been in bed for hours, talking about their lives and dreams, drifting along in each other’s arms. They woke to make love and floated back to sleep again.
If her entire existence boiled down to this room in this cabin with this man, she would be satisfied. She didn’t care that her life might end soon. Didn’t care that he was a 300-year-old undead Swede.
She’d made her decision earlier in the day. She would not live in terror; she’d open herself up emotionally and not allow the act that had wrecked her life to dictate the rules of her existence. No longer a victim, she had taken control of her life, decided to be with Dante completely, and was rewarded in ways she hadn’t imagined.
Damn it, if she was a marked woman, she might as well make up for the years of her life that would be taken from her. God, it was so worth it.
Stretching, she winced at new sore spots on her body.
He rolled partway over her and kissed her on the nose. Pulling her firmly to his solid chest, his warmth conducted right through her body, the heat welcome in the cool evening air.
“I’m getting up,” she said.
She pushed against his massive frame, and he flopped back on the bed, acting weak and docile. His interested
electric-blue glint spoke of anything but weakness.
“Well, I’m staying here. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come right back.” He reached for her.
She laughed and danced out of the way. “Sounds delicious.” She popped on her glasses. “I’m going to the bathhouse, so I’ll be a little while.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
He rolled over, and soon, light snores emerged from the bedroom. Funny, she thought his kind didn’t need sleep and didn’t get tired. Maybe it’d been a long couple of days even for a being like him.
She quickly donned jeans and the T-shirt and hoodie, grabbed her purse containing toiletry items and slung a towel over her shoulder. Out of the cabin, on a whim, she turned on her cell phone. The light blinked for voicemail. The message time indicated a few hours prior.
Scott’s number.
Her stomach pitched.
The voice on the recording stopped her cold. With a trembling hand, she pressed the phone to her ear.
The cool air froze the sweat on her brow.
It wasn’t Scott.
Chapter 16
“Brandon here, using your beloved brother’s phone.” Hannah visualized his thin mouth pinching as he talked.
A horrific, ear-splitting male scream overloaded the phone speakers. She collapsed to her knees on the gravel, barely able to hang on to the phone. Air whooshed out in harsh gasps.
“As you can tell, Scott’s unavailable right now, but if you get your skanky ass back here before midnight, I might let your idiot brother live. If you cooperate, we might let Scott go. I’ve texted you the address. Come alone, or I’ll quarter your brother alive. Don’t be late.”
Scott’s tortured wail of pain cut off abruptly as the call ended.
Glancing back at the dark cabin, she thought of Dante, sleeping within. What should she do?
If Dante went with her, Scott would die. Brandon had made that perfectly clear.
If Dante went with her, this man she cared for might die. And if she didn’t follow Brandon’s rules, Peter and Allie might die.
Panic squeezed her lungs until she saw stars. Making a conscious effort to take slow breaths, she calmed down and cleared her thoughts. She needed a plan.
If she went to Scott on her own, at least Dante might be safe. Allie and Peter might be safe. Maybe she could get Scott out of this situation.
In every scenario, Hannah would probably die. Or, as Dante had alluded, maybe worse. She might not die.
Trapped. A different prison but trapped all the same.
Bile burned her throat. She couldn’t tell Dante what she needed to do. He wouldn’t listen. He’d come with her and be destroyed trying to protect her. And if she didn’t come alone, Scott would die.
Oh no, no, no.
With shaking hands, she used her cell phone light to scribble a note on a piece of scrap paper from her purse. Slinking back to the cabin porch, she stuffed the paper between slats on the swing. Dante would find it later. And then what?
Well, he would have to guess where she was going. He could run pretty fast but surely not for 200 miles or however far it was to Portland.
Shivering in the evening air, she picked up her purse and towel and crept down the path to the parking area. Dante had mentioned that he kept a spare key under the front mat of the Hummer for emergencies. This situation qualified. Shame heated her face. Like a criminal, she was stealing Dante’s car. What a way to repay his kindness.
What a response to his tenderness and trust.
Opening the heavy car door, she left it slightly ajar. It would make too much noise if she closed it. She scrabbled with her hands under the mat; sweat pricked her forehead. No key. Where was it?
Her heart leapt at the muffled jingle. Jumping into the driver’s seat, she scooted it forward, inserted the key, and turned it one click. The dashboard lights came on, but the engine remained silent.
When she glanced back up the path, she half expected Dante to come running out of the cabin. If he followed her, it would seal his destruction and that of his friends.
Come on, come on. Think.
She had to do this without alerting him.
Putting the vehicle in neutral, she kept the lights off and rolled down the slight incline from the parking lot onto the park road. She was probably only doing three or four miles per hour, but revving the engine this close to the cabin would draw immediate attention. So she coasted, incredibly slow but somewhat silently. Each individual crunch of rock on the rough road sounded like huge explosions to her hypersensitive ears.
The Hummer crawled toward the park exit.
She let gravity take over; the Hummer got up to ten miles per hour. Another glance in the rearview mirror. No pursuit yet. She gripped the wheel with sweaty hands.
Keeping her foot off the brake, Hannah let the momentum carry her up the slight rise to the highway. She spotted no oncoming traffic and kept on with the maddening, lethargic coast, inching west, away from the town of John Day. The highway paralleled the state park, so she kept the engine off and vehicle coasting until she spotted headlights behind her.
Shutting the front door, she engaged the motor and floored it up the highway. She pushed the vehicle up to seventy, putting as much distance between herself and the state park as possible. Tears streamed down her face.
After every mile passed, she relaxed a tiny bit. Dante would live.
After every mile passed, her heart clenched with stabbing pain. She wouldn’t see him again.
Her vision blurred, so she rubbed at her cheeks, dabbing under her glasses to wipe away the wetness. The headlights she’d spotted in the rearview mirror were long gone, and Hannah eased off the accelerator to a more appropriate speed.
She’d stolen a car and left Dante.
Scott, what have you gotten yourself into?
The console clock read just after seven o’clock. Five hours to get to Portland and make the deadline.
A sign pointing north toward the Fossil Beds National Park also listed Portland. She had no map. This way must be as good as any. She chanced a final glance in the rearview mirror: no cars; no giant, sprinting, undead killers.
The green sign on the right read 234 miles to Portland. She hoped to hell this would be a straight road, or she might not get to Scott in time.
Three hours and a million hairpin turns later, Hannah’s hands and arms burned with effort to maintain speed without coming off the road in the top-heavy Hummer. Highway 19 had followed a river closely for miles, twisting with speeds listed far below what she needed to maintain to reach Portland before the deadline.
She was running out of time. She had to keep pushing. Get to Scott.
The highway climbed into a forest where, instead of a river, she traveled up and over gullies and hills.
For the love of God, would it be too much to ask for a straight patch of road?
Stopping at a crossroads gas station, she filled up the vehicle and used the restroom. As she washed her hands at the sink, she didn’t recognize the person in the mirror with swollen, red eyes. She didn’t think it was possible to cry for three hours, but apparently overcoming the impossible had become her mission.
Thinking about Dante made the tears flow again. Her chest ached like someone had ripped her heart out, leaving an empty cavity of black nothingness.
Exhaustion dug bony, phantom fingers into her shoulders and threatened to drag her down.
She would never see Dante again. Even if he forgave her for running away and stealing his car, it didn’t matter. She was a marked woman. Her freak of nature ability had attracted all the wrong attention from the very start. Now she paid for her bizarre gift.
If she didn’t show up in Portland, her brother would die. And by arriving alone, at least Dante would be safe. Wiping away tears and fatigue, she shrugged out of the hoodie, hurried back out to the Hummer, and headed north and west toward Portland.
Toward death.
Or worse.
• • �
�
Dante rolled over in the quiet cabin. The blanket where Hannah had laid was cool to the touch.
Hannah.
That sweet, trusting face. Her body—herre Gud, just thinking about their lovemaking made him harden with lust. He needed to be inside of her yet again. He shook his head, amazed at what she did to him.
An oddly familiar motor revved in the distance. Turning his head toward the bedroom window, he tried to place the sound.
The Hummer.
The Hummer?
Blood running cold, Dante exploded out of the cabin, still naked. Sure enough, down the highway heading west, moving at speed, his Hummer’s taillights disappeared into the night. He reached the parking area in a millisecond. Where was Hannah?
Sprinting to the bathhouse, he quickly established that she hadn’t been there. The shower stalls were bone-dry.
Herrejåvlar.
Gone. Had someone taken her? Maybe Brandon had found her.
Or had Dante scared her off? What had he done?
Hurt, deep hurt, choked him like a noose. Had she truly rejected him?
As he walked back to the cabin, a slight flutter in the breeze caught his attention. Pulling a folded piece of paper from between pieces of wood, he flipped on the porch light to read. His stomach dropped at Hannah’s flowing script.
Dante, I have to leave. You’re safer if you stay here. I’m sorry. I love you.
Hannah
What would be safer for someone like him? There wasn’t much that could hurt him. Except finishing a contract and pissing off Jerahmeel to the point where his boss lashed out at anyone: Peter, Allie, Barnaby. And Dante had told Hannah all of this information and more.
But would that make her leave? Now?
He dialed her cell number, but it went straight to voicemail. Kristus. When he called Peter, his friend answered on the second ring.
“Peter, I’ve got a problem. Hannah left.”
“What do you mean, left?”
He sat down on the porch, ignoring the wood digging into his bare ass. “She took the Hummer and left. I think something’s wrong.”
Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) Page 19
