Home > The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4)(34)

The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4)(34)
Author: L.A. Banks

His hands slid over the high, glistening cheeks with the water, and he entered her, hard from the rear.

He cried out as her stomach hit the wall. He slid his hand between the tiles and her wondrously smooth belly, pulling her into him, against him, to keep her from being slammed into the wall. Using an outstretched arm with his elbow locked to brace the impact, shelter her skull, his breaths became a chant. He needed to feed.

With his head thrown back, his eyes shut tight, he tried to reason with her, slow his motions, his pulse, the inevitable. "Downstairs in the lair, on tap," he said between pants. "But you have to stop moving."

"I can't." Her voice broke, and she reached back, holding his hips, refusing to allow him to break the seal of their bodies. "Not yet."

"It's now or never," he told her honestly, gathering her in his arms, his hands sliding up her slick torso to mold her br**sts. "Let me feed, so we can both live to do this again tomorrow night."

Grudgingly, she moved, disengaging their bodies and allowing him to turn her, shuddering when the connection was lost. He embraced her and nuzzled her hair. With a thought, they were downstairs, dripping water on the black marble kitchen floor.

She backed up to the sink, baiting him with her eyes. "Turn on the tap," she ordered. Her voice was low, and husky. Lethal.

He nodded and it ran blood.

Without his looking at the cabinets, they slammed open - and a crystal goblet materialized in his hand. She inched over and let him fill it, watching him with burning intensity as he downed two glassfuls quickly.

"Can I taste?" She smiled, her fangs glistening in the darkness, her eyes flickering gold.

"It's got a kick to it... not like feeding from me, or the packs."

She nodded, her hot body sliding beneath him. She dipped her finger in his glass, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes, pulling her finger out slow and wet. "Yeah... it does."

He let her take the glass. She took a deep swig, dropped the glass, and let it shatter. With feline agility, she pushed herself up on the counter and leaned back and her eyes said it all - no mind lock necessary.

More stable now, he took his time, his lips finding her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, but denying her ready mouth his kiss. It was about finesse. A sad knowing overcame him as he honored her body - she was too far gone, the purge hadn't worked, and she'd turned. Instinctively he knew that while female vampires could not reproduce the scent of ripe Neteru, a master could reproduce any illusion that he had intimate knowledge of. In this case, he'd made a female master with Neteru DNA. He wanted to weep.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered, swallowing away his tears.

"If I had to be bitten and turned," she whispered, stroking his hair, "I'm glad you were the one who did it."

Carlos nuzzled her neck. He'd never forgive himself, but vowed to spend eternity making it up to her.

Breath warm and coating teased her throat, a nip, a flicker of tongue, making her squirm in frustration as she waited for his bite and entry. Deep, long kisses sucked her collarbone. A gentle caress lifted her br**sts, causing a shiver. Gooseflesh from anticipation made her arch to make contact with his mouth, the tips hardened, ready, but ignored, then suddenly captured. The sensation almost blinding, then gone.

Moistened thumbs traced a lazy circle around edges of her ni**les in a burning tease. A light kiss on her breastbone made her belly quiver. A long, sweeping lick down her abdomen - impossible to hold her head up and watch. A tongue circling her navel, then penetrating it, causing a slow moan... a series of advancing kisses, nips, that forced her to lift her head with hope... then he looked up at her and smiled.

Her thighs opened wider on their own accord. But the place that she most needed to feel him, he ignored. The tender insides of her thighs were on fire. Every swipe of his tongue, every deep French kiss against them, made her lift her h*ps and contract, not knowing when the kiss there would come.

When his hands slid down her sides and over her thighs, water came to her eyes, blurring her vision. His caress was so lazy, almost hypnotic, were it not for the white-hot burn it created.

"You always smell so damned good," he murmured into the soft down as he kissed it.

His words vibrated against the tender place, sending a hard contraction up the core of her. Her face felt hot, and she licked the tiny beads of sweat that had formed just above her lip. But when he separated her with his tongue an electric current straightened her spine.

The slow suckle of the oversensitive bud that he'd found made her h*ps move to the pulse of his tongue. And as his mouth explored the tender folds around it, she arched to try to return him to where he'd just been. But he wasn't having it. He'd found a deeper region, and he circled it before plundering it, her cries nearly shattering glass.

His mouth wandered, leaving her aching, another site abandoned, his fingers adding delicious, torturous penetration, but a poor substitute. He chuckled, reading her mind, knowing, finding the place she needed him to kiss most, and he allowed his tongue to salsa it until she grabbed his hair with both hands.

Hovering on the edge of certain madness, she could not understand her body. It wouldn't yield, wouldn't obey her and just plunge over the edge of the near orgasm. Instead, it teetered, going close, then stepping back, ignoring her will. Her moan became a whimper, then a plea of despair.

"I know," he murmured against her thigh, hot and thick. "Now do you understand?"

Her voice caught in her throat. She nodded with her eyes closed, but knew he was watching her face, triumphant.

His kisses trailed up her middle, his hands leaving a burn as they stroked her. "I was right there, just like that... on the brink for months."

She wanted him so badly, she nearly wept when he covered her. She struggled beneath his hold, trying to offer him entry, but he just lay refusing to come in.

"For us," he murmured into her hair, winding it through his fingers, "release is impossible without the bite." If she'd turned, he had to teach her. She was his woman, his wife, and had to know all there was to thrive in his dark world that had become hers.

He was in full control, and she knew it. She could feel his fangs tease her skin, his h*ps lowering slowly, calmly.

"Please..." Her hands scrabbled at his shoulder blades, but he shook his head no and chuckled low in his throat.

"Uh-uh. Not yet." She had to learn patience, how to seduce prey, how to co-opt would-be aggressors. She had to learn how to function within the sixth realm.

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