He’d be an excellent lover. I know it as a woman. I know it from that all-consuming sniff he gave my wrist.
HIS face pops behind my eyelids. And I curse him. Why do I have to be stuck on Grayson? After all this time?
My legs quiver, and I pull my hand away from my pleasure center, unfulfilled.
I’m too exhausted right now. Too exhausted to think about cashing in my v-card. Too exhausted to rehash memories of that day. I turn off the water.
And why am I even turned on? I just lobbed a guy’s head off with an ancient sword. Nearly killing the queen in the process. It should not have been that easy. Separating a man’s head from his shoulders.
I stumble a little upon exiting the shower. I’m nauseated. Lightheaded. Weak from the blood loss.
I pull the towel around my body and make my way over to Lucian’s bed.
I lay down on it crosswise. I’ll just recover my strength for a moment before I get dressed.
Chapter 18
Feather-light kisses on my lips. Cheeks. Eyebrows. Neck.
I don’t open my eyes, I savor the feeling. Lucian holds himself above me, his scent familiar. The feelings he’s pulling through me - not so much. I remember the interest with which I viewed him the first time I met him. I remember his gaze the night he stepped into the road.
I recognize those feelings now as attraction.
Those first days in his company, learning from him. I stuffed them down. Down so deep, that now, at this very moment, they are flying out of my stomach to war with my heart.
“Is this what you want, Independence?” He breathes at my ear.
I nod my head yes. I need this. I need this to banish HIM from my thoughts.
Burn him from my heart. Exorcise him from my fucking soul. He doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. Grayson Faolain. Goodbye.
“Say it.” Lucian punctuates his demand with a drag of his fang along my neck.
I open my eyes. Above me his muscled shoulders dominate my view. He lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are near golden.
“I want you.” I state it simply.
The effect of my words are devastating to say the least. He lowers his lips to mine. Lowers his body to mine. While his tongue plunders and duels with my own. I shift my legs open to accommodate him.
The towel that was knotted at my breast releases and we are together flesh against flesh.
I feel the steel encased in his boxer-briefs. His hands upon my breasts are hot.
He sucks on my lower lip, and then opens to accept my kiss. I sweep my tongue inside, and pain. He pulls back from our kiss.
I taste the blood on my tongue.
His eyes travel from my lips to my breasts, down my legs. His hands follow.
“I’ve always viewed you as a girl. Lann bheag. But tonight. When you picked up that sword, you became a woman. A warrior.”
I lift my palm up to his right cheek. Sliding off the patch that I’ve never seen him without.
Underneath, his eyelid is a scarred mass, fused shut during a time when that was the advance of medical knowledge.
I trace the scar with my fingertips, and when my hand gets to the bottom, he turns his lips to it, pressing a kiss to my open palm.
I pull him to me, emboldened by his words and pleased to have the last barrier between us gone.
When our tongues tangle this time, I am careful of his fangs. I can still taste the lingering iron tang.
His hands are everywhere. My own skim along his ribcage. Underneath my hands is his tattoo. One that I had tried my damndest not to stare at. It’s foreign and intricately detailed geometric patterns. His muscles are taut. A pleasurable playground for my fingertips.
I pulse and ooze for him. My hands reach the waistband of this underwear, and my fingertips glide their way inward.
He abruptly captures my hands in his, pulling them up above my head. He repeats the movement with my right hand, and I am breathless beneath him.
Vulnerable to his strength. But loving it. Loving this.
He kisses me breathless once again, releasing my hands only to push his boxer-briefs down.
He glides himself along my folds, the head teasing, pleasuring.
I close my eyes. Willing him to do it.
Hating that at this exact moment, there’s still a part of my mind that thinks of Grayson. I don’t breathe.
“Independence. Don’t tense up on me.”
His words have me popping open my eyes to the man before me.
Holy electric tea kettles. His handsome face, his blazing eye pierce me.
I suck in a quick breath, relaxing incrementally, my eyes dipping to our point of no return.
I push my feet underneath my knees, bowing up and taking him in more. So much more, the pain steals my breath away. Stops me. Right there. Him halfway seated, eye on me.
He takes control pushing the rest of the way in. Growling near triumphantly at my neck. The tip of his fang is at my pulse point.
I have a half-second of panic that he’ll rip into that vulnerable spot. And the excitement of it, blends into my arousal and pain. Our combined perfume, body scents and the metallic scent of my virginity permeate the air.
I’m filled with his hotness. His strokes are becoming shortened, his arousal evident.
He reaches between us, finding that spot I had slowly worked earlier in the shower. He circles it, hits it, works it between his fingertips.
The orgasm is a flashpoint through me. Erupting quickly, rocking tremors that I feel deep against that most intimate part of him.
When they ebb away, I’m left with an ache. He’s filling and pulsing between my legs. I hold onto him, experiencing a man’s pleasure at so many touch points.
He pulls out, rolling to the side and drags me on top of him.
We lay there, breathless.
“You have given me a gift, Lann bheag.” His kisses my forehead.
“What’s that? What’s Lann bheag?” I ask him.
“Little blade.”
I huff out a small laugh. It’s not the most badass nickname, but for a term of endearment, it’s pretty good.
Chapter 19
“Good news. King Jael’s death has been sanctioned. Now we must pay tribute.”
“What do you mean?” I slide my eyes from Kaida to Lucian looking for clarification.
“She means that Jael’s death doesn’t come without a price. Kaida will began overseeing his territory until another ruler can be voted upon. And in the meantime we’ll have to visit the five other territories and bring some kind of gift to them.”
“Isaac has already requested his gift be setting eyes upon the young wolf that slew the mighty Viking Jael.”
Her announcement is met with an unhappy look from Lucian.
I feel that same trepidation. No good can come from being outed to more vamps.
“Who is Isaac?”
“King of the South-Western territory.” Lucian doesn’t look to me, and it is as if he and Kaida are having a telepathic conversation. They probably aren’t really able to speak mind-to-mind, but being in each other’s company for hundreds of years has made verbal words less necessary.
“Pack your evening wear, darling. Isaac likes to entertain in high-style.” Kaida smiles and in her customary ‘you’re-dismissed’ gesture, stands.
“So just where is Isaac’s territory?” I ask Lucian as we get on the elevator.
Please be California, please be California. Palm Springs would be nice. I still have dreams of a mai-tai and a sunny day on the beach. I’d be willing to wear formal wear for that.
“Las Vegas.”
I can work with that. There’s sand at least.
“We’ll take the private jet. Tomorrow. They’ve already extended the invite.”
Invite. Request. Order. It’s all the same thing. Vegas baby.
I watch and see the strip from the comfort of the small private plane. It’s bright glittering lights like small artificial stars. Vegas could be its ow
n solar system.
We land on an airfield some distance from it.
The night’s desert air is surprisingly cool, and smells of crushed concrete. Dry dirt.
There is a large black SUV waiting for us not far from where the plane taxied in, and a chauffeur with zero personality takes the garment bags Lucian is holding, while opening the door for us.
It gives me the creeps to climb in a car without exchanging names, but that’s vamps for you.
A twenty minute ride passes quietly, and I wondered if this is Lucian holding in his apprehensions.
We stop at the front door of a palatial looking mansion, after a brief stop at a gatehouse.
Lucian gets out of the car first, and reaches a hand back to help me down.
‘Welcome! Esteemed guests, welcome!” A balding man with arms widespread in welcome steps down from the wide-open front doors. “‘I am King Isaac’s majordomo - David.”
Fancy. A majordomo. Behind him a good-looking man, with nice caramel skin, obviously packing heat under his suit jacket, steps forward.
“This is Scott, our head of security. I hope you don’t mind if he searches you.”
No guns allowed here. This is a peaceful diplomatic mission. Lucian lifts his arms and gets the pat-down from Scott. I get the same treatment, but I detect a small smile from the perv when he slides his hand around my bra strap.
David takes the garment bag from the silent and efficient chauffeur while we are get frisked.
Mr. Caramel waves his hand forward. Inside the foyer, there’s a number of people hustling about from room to room, arranging flowers, carrying trays of champagne glasses, getting ready for the party.
‘We’ve got a room set up for you to change and freshen up. If you’ll follow me?”
Lucian gives him a nod. We ascend the fancy marble staircase to the second floor.
We’re given a guest room with attached bath at the front of the mansion. Majordomo David hangs the garment bags on a convenient hook on the bathroom door.
“The party will begin in an hour. King Isaac is delighted that you are here. If there is anything I can get you or - ”
“We’re fine. Thank you, David.” Lucian cuts him off.
David leaves with a barely perceptible nod. Lucian’s brusqueness having sent the message we don’t need buttering up.
I cross to the garment bag and unzip it. A sheath of black soft fabric falls out.
Not shiny, not satin, something…”Is this silk?” I finger the fabric between my fingertips.
I hadn’t seen what Lucian had packed for me to wear. He had simply asked me, “Do you trust me Lann bheag?”
And of course I do. Beside Kaida, Lucian is the most fashionable person I know. Maybe years of accumulating wealth and appreciating the finer things in life automatically leads to a keen fashion sense.
I pull the bag all the way off the dress.
It’s column style. A simple cut without adornment.
“Silk, yes.”
He’s looking at his phone.
I take the dress into the bathroom, and put it on, giving Lucian time to attend whatever pressing business is on his phone.
I’m a little dismayed to see that there is a deep splice down the middle chest area; it ends just above my belly button. Ok, no bra with this. The girls will be free-wheeling.
I do a couple of fast walks across the floor to make sure everything stays in place. It does, but with an alarming natural sway. I give one more look-see over my reflection and judge it good enough. I’d put on light makeup before getting on the plane in New Orleans, and I’d been tying my hair back with a side braid to low-pony. The ends are a little undone and frizzy, so I finger-comb them over my shoulder and plump them up for volume. Not too shabby.
“Loosh,” I start as I open the bathroom door looking down at my chest, “is this supposed to look like this?”
I indicate the neckline, and post the hand on my hip in question.
His eye zeros in on what I am showing him. “Yes.”
He clicks his phone off, and throws it on the mattress amid shoes and accessories he’s pulled from his bag. “Come here.”
When I’m in front of him, he puts his hand on my shoulder and spins me around. He slides the zipper down the modest back.
A little trill flutters in my stomach. He reaches into one of the boxes on the bed and pulls something with thin straps out.
His palms come over my shoulder and glides the top of the sleeveless dress down my arm. I flush.
Knowing what he wants, I slide my shoulders out of the dress. The air fills with anticipatory tension.
His arms come around, and between them, dangles a silver blade in a shoulder harness. A shortsword. He brings up the arm of the harness over my left arm, caressing my skin. Behind me, I feel him open the left strap, and I reach behind me, sliding my arm through it. A simple move - as if he was helping me put on a coat.
But I am trembling with desire. The smooth touches of promise.
The sheath and small weapon will be completely hidden by the back fabric of the dress.
He lifts the top of the dress on the left side, and redresses me. But not before running his fingertips ever-so-softly against the scar on my shoulder. The move always brings HIS face to mind.
I turn to obliterate it with the darkly handsome man before me.
We share a heated kiss, that darkens my lips with a drop of blood. His tongue swipes it up quickly, before he drops to his knees before me.
He lifts the skirt and pulls my knee to him, propping my foot on the bed by his shoulder. His hand glides around my right thigh, cinching a piece of leather there.
His fingers work deftly. He reaches back to the bed, and holds up another flat blade for me to see. He slides it into the thigh sheath with dexterity.
Our eyes meet, and I feel like a powerful vixen in this position. Him before me on his knees, my legs spread wide. He presses a lingering kiss to my thigh and moves his head in closer to my center, pressing a kiss, longer and with more pressure, there too.
“Later, Lann bheag.”
I give him a nod, and drop my foot from the mattress to the floor. I sit on the bed and slide a pair of ridiculous heels onto my feet.
While I’m buckling them up, Lucian is quickly changing from one suit to another. I roll my eyes at the silliness. But then something occurs to me.
“Did you request a room to change into so that we could outfit ourselves with weapons?”
After all, if I had worn this dress and these knives when I first got here, Scott would have promptly found them.
Lucian tucks his new shirt into his pants. He cups my cheek and kisses my forehead.
“Weapons for you, Indy. I did request a room so that you could have some form of protection.”
“But nothing for you?” I ask a little dismayed. If he doesn’t trust Isaac enough for me to attend the party without protection…
“Nothing for me. But I won’t need it.” He smiles and drops his hand from my face. He fiddles with the cuffs on his shirt.
Chapter 20
We might as well as be descending into a pit of vipers for all the warmness I am reading off Lucian as we leave our suite.
“He’ll have a formal welcome to us, introducing us collectively to his kiss.” Lucian tells me as we take the turn from the foyer into the large side room.
Most of the furniture has been pushed along the edges of the room, to allow room in the middle for the already gathered crowds.
“Lucian!” A man breaks away from a small cluster of ladies in formal wear.
Good thing I let Lucian pick the dress, I fit right in.
“Isaac.” Lucian greets this man with a clasping of forearms, a one-armed half-hug.
“May I introduce to you, Independence Skollen?” He says when they break apart.
“You may.” Isaac holds a hand out to me, and when I put my own into his expecting a shake, instead I get a clasp. He lifts my fingers to his lips, lingering wa
y too long for my comfort.
Kissing of the hands is an outdated move, one I’ve never felt comfortable with.
“Slayer of the mighty Jael! How happy I am to meet you!” His lips pull into a wide grin, and I can see that his classically good looks and charming personality are probably what has won him his position of king.
I smile in return, not at all fooled by the glossy veneer. “Pleased to meet you too.”
“Do you dance, my dear? Tonight we are bringing back the minuet, maybe even the waltz.”
I pull my hand out of his.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Unperturbed by my cold demeanor, he turns to chide Lucian playfully.
“Lucian, you have been too lax in your tutelage!”
“Come, come, let me introduce you to my friends.” He makes to put his arm around my shoulders, and I have a moment of panic that he’ll discover the blade along my spine. I twist towards Lucian at the last second, stepping under his arm, in a move I hope comes off as shy.
“Only if Loosh can come too.” I look up at him, hoping I’m playing this right.
He smiles, dropping a kiss on the lips of my upturned face.
Ever the polite host, Isaac recovers smoothly. “Of course. Most already know Lucian, but they’ll be happy to see him just the same.”
An hour later, I think I’ve met the entire state of Nevada. In reality it may be only fifty or so vamps.
They are all exceedingly polite, born of a time that manners were the pinnacle of life.
It makes me wonder some at Lucian’s past. He holds a violence, a rawness that places him as much older than most of these vamps here.
There are a few humans mixed in with the vamps, but other than that the gathering is very species-select. At the small bar, I ask for a soda water with lime, wanting to keep sober just in case. No sloppy mistakes here.
There’s something just not...right here tonight. Something I can’t put my finger on.
Idly, I move to where my back is against the wall, and I can observe without feeling completely vulnerable.
A few vamps have broken out their instruments and are strumming classical music.
A good thirty or so more vamps start their old-form dance. What had Isaac called it, the minuet?
State of Independence Page 7
