The Hunger - Vampire Huntress Legend 3 Page 16

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  Remember, baby, how it used to be?

  When we were just kids and so free.

  ù"Remember Baby" by Damali Richards

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  Chapter Eight

  Carlos watched her walk around the clerics' spartan quarters, noting the way she took everything in. He kept his distance, just to be on the safe side. She had a totally destabilizing effect on him, one that he enjoyed and yet feared. This was not the place, and there was too much heat between them—had always been that way… but not here. He owed the old priests that much respect. But damn she was fine… and he'd missed her so much.

  "You wanted to talk," he said quietly. "We need to do that, fast, and get you back where you belong."

  She didn't answer him, but went toward the refrigerators. "You need to eat."

  He shook his head. "Don't. I don't want you to ever see me do that."

  Her hand fell from the door, and her eyes held so much sadness that he had to look away. He folded his arms over his chest, leaned on the door frame, then studied the floor.

  "No, don't," she said.

  He couldn't take it. She was standing there pitying him, knowing what he was, but still not afraid.

  "Say what it is that you couldn't say in front of the others… please. Let's not drag this out."

  "Then look at me, so I can," she whispered.

  Couldn't she understand that just watching her move in that dress was painful, knowing he couldn't have her… shouldn't. He continued to look away, remembering he was in a clerical safe house, and tried to tell her things that were off the too-hot subject. The situation was beyond ludicrous. He still had shaky borders, and to whisk her away to a lair would put them both at risk to other males until he reestablished his line authority.

  "You scared me, girl," he said quietly, his words absolute truth.

  %

  "When I came out from behind the clerics in your compound, if I was someone else, I'd have used them as body shields before you could even throw your weight behind your Isis. While you were trying to pull your blade out of an innocent's chest, you wouldn't have had swing time to come at me again. That's why you have to focus through the pain… even when there's a hard loss, baby. You, of all people, cannot afford to ever go blind. Not doing what you do."

  "I know, but I… Going temporarily blind isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

  He sighed, his gaze now riveted to her. "Yes it is. Ask me how I know." He found a neutral point on the wall that was safe to stare at. "I've put down my own boys… even my brother, D. Buried so many friends… But even while I was still alive, my territory was dangerous, and I couldn't lose focus. It'll change you, no doubt. But that's the only way you can survive this shit. Going blind ain't an option, D."

  Her pull was greater than he'd imagined, as she made him look at her again. "I know," he said gently. "We've both lost a part of our hearts to the graves along the way. Regardless. Don't let anybody take you there—not even me."

  He shoved away from the place he was leaning and walked deeper into the dining area, just to put more space between them.

  "There are so many things we need to discuss, Carlos. If you'll just listen, and stop pushing me away because of what I am."

  He let his breath out slowly. She was so naive and still so damned blind it wasn't funny. She didn't even have her Isis on her.

  "I'm not blind, anymore," she said quietly, openly reading his thoughts. "I didn't walk through this door naively either. I left my blade for a reason. You're the one that's blind tonight, Carlos. Always have been. That's what's made you vulnerable. Now look at me."

  He honored the request against his better judgment, glancing up slowly to allow her gaze to capture his. "Talk to me," he said in a low voice, nervous as hell that she might take him somewhere he couldn't come back from.

  Her mouth didn't move. He felt her mind grip his. It wasn't right what she was doing, probing the most erogenous part of him, getting all up in his head until images of laughter and good times created flashes of sensation within him. He was forced to close his eyes. He felt himself smiling as he saw her dancing, dropping a bandanna to start a drag race. "I remember that souped-up Chevy." He laughed as she nodded. "Oh, girl… I miss those times." His voice had become far away and gentle. Please stop.

  "I still have it," she murmured. "Kept that old red rag since you gave it to me."

  Her admission pleased him beyond measure, then she rocked him with the memory of an argument that entered his mind, stealing the joy, sending a rush of defensive anger through him that was quelled with the touch of her hand on his jaw. He hadn't heard her move toward him. He opened his eyes and saw that she was still across the room. She'd sent the gentle caress from her memory, touching him with her mind—not fair. He nodded. Yeah it was fair, they'd argued from day one about his life, and she'd told him where it would lead… if only he'd listened. Hindsight. Perfect vision.

  Carlos sighed. He couldn't argue with her now. It was the truth. Tough, but gentle, that's what she'd always been. Tears filled her eyes as he stared at this woman standing across the room, a vision he couldn't have because of what he was, what he'd become.

  But she had mercy in her mind. He heard the beach, waves pounding the shore; smelled salt air chase away the burning rubber and exhaust fumes from the drag race; he saw the sunlight catch her cheek and fire it bronze, red, gold; his finger traced it in the air. Yeah, he remembered that day… when a small thing like a button on her blouse drew his attention. The mental collage she sent was so beautiful, then she put music to it. The last refrain of her slow song from the concert… Remember, baby. His lids slid closed. No, he'd been right. What she was doing to him wasn't fair. This was an outright seduction, and he couldn't do shit about it.

  Carlos opened his eyes and looked at her. She moved toward him and stopped so close to him that he could feel the heat rising from her skin.

  "When I thought you were gone, I kept those memories of you tucked away to keep me whole," she whispered. "I was so angry at you for allowing yourself to—"

  He put a finger to her lips, his mind weeping, trying to let her know that he understood, and no one regretted his path more than he. Picking up the end of the last vision she'd sent, his mind sent her his hopes… the dreams that could never come true. He was standing in a church watching her walk down the aisle toward him, then they were in a house, laughing, wearing T-shirts in bed—he rubbed her tight, round belly as the life they'd created kicked inside it.

  "You're right. I was the one who was so blind for so long, Damali. Forgive me. I'm so sorry, baby… you just don't know."

  His mouth found hers, and she tenderly returned his soft sweep against her lips. She covered his hands as they trembled against the sides of her face. He backed up an inch, his fingers touching her hair, his eyes searching hers for forgiveness, acceptance.

  "I don't ever want to hurt you," he whispered, "and I have already."

  "I'm immune," she said, sending a double message with the brief statement. "You can't." Then he watched her take out the silver earrings from her ears and let them fall to the floor. He stared at them, understanding what that meant, but almost not believing.

  His hands found her shoulders. He glanced out the window, then he shook his head no.

  "I'm not afraid," she said quietly, reading the conflict in his mind.

  "I know… that's why I am."

  She sealed the small space between them, tilting her chin up to him. The action caused near-delirium. Her skin made his catch fire. The scent of her flooded him and drowned the rational side of his brain. His grip on her shoulders slid to her upper arms and tightened. This was not how it was supposed to go down. This was not how he'd ever envisioned being with her. Not like this, not under heavy guard… not…

  Damali put her finger to his lips. "Shush…"

  The rush of her voice fractured his resolve as he lowered his head and found her mouth. The sweetness within it d
rew his hunger, and his tongue found hers, dancing in an urgent duel. His tongue plundered those hidden places, pulling a moan from her, which he swallowed, making him move against her as the sound lit him up inside.

  When his hands found her back, he let them revel in the feel of her skin. Delicate knit allowed baby soft flesh to tease his fingers in intermittent patterns. Each vertebra he revered as his hand slid down to her round backside and her shudder of desire entered his body, shaking him to his bones. He had to let her go.

  He pulled back. "Baby—"

  Her mouth sought his again, harder this time, halting his protest. Her hands found the sides of his face and held him firm until he surrendered. He grabbed her wrists, intent on sending her home, but soon his palms covered her knuckles, his fingers twined with hers, making him lower her arms to guide them to his waist. She felt so good; his hands couldn't touch enough of her. He filled his fists with velvet soft locks, every texture she owned summoning a new wave of need.

  He'd known hunger, but tonight she'd driven him to ravenous. What she offered was all-consuming, beyond mere flesh. She offered her mind and her spirit along with her body, and demanded the same in return… He'd never experienced anything so profound. There was no way to resist when her mind opened wide and trapped his with the truth… Carlos, just once. For my first time, I always dreamed it would be you.

  There was no decision to be made. All of a sudden she was in his arms and with the speed of thought, he'd taken her down into the lair. He locked the steel door and he'd set her down easy on the hard, clerical cot.

  She stared up at him with her big, brown doe eyes, but this was no passive prey. It was innocence with a burn beneath it, seeking. He could feel her desire hunting him as her chest rose and fell with shallow sips of air. She was past the point of guessing what could happen, just like he was. He looked around the room of what had been his prison cell. No, this was not how it was supposed to be with his woman… she deserved way better than this.

  He waved his hand and instantly transformed the space around her. She sank into a lush, king-sized bed that became the centerpiece of the room. White silk just for her. Much better. He snapped his fingers, adding appointments; the walls went marble, candles lit, a torch flared by the bed, a gentle breeze blew, and an instrumental version of her song came on. If only he had his own lair, he'd give her cliffs and make the moon her spotlight. He sealed the room's exterior with silence. The clerics didn't need to hear this.

  Carlos slowly took off his jacket. "You're sure?" His eyes never left hers. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. He'd waited for this moment for years.

  She glanced around the transformed lair then looked back up at him and nodded. "I knew you were a master… had heard about… but didn't know you could do stuff like this…"

  He didn't answer her as he dropped his jacket and came to her. She had no concept of what he could do, if she'd let him. Trying to decide where to begin, he garnered patience. She deserved all the pleasure he could give her. He'd stop time until she begged him to let her go.

  He nuzzled the hair away from her neck, and she tensed. He planted a gentle kiss against it. Her mind began to close him away. "Don't… I won't bite you." His whisper drew a gasp from her, and he chuckled low in his throat.

  She wasn't sure if it was a vamp line, right now she didn't care. He'd said that to her when they'd first met, and right now it meant the world. There was no resistance, any fear had been replaced by something that went way beyond that.

  It wasn't a line. Didn't she know what the feel of her skin was doing to him? It was an aphrodisiac, just like her scent. Biting her was the last thing he was thinking about, she'd already taken him back to that first encounter when they'd met—blowing his mind. He rubbed his face against her shoulder, and with that their clothes vanished. She had wandered into a master vampire's lair… an innocent… in a priest's house. Shame on it all, but he was already damned. Natural law superseded any other laws they could levy. He'd tried to warn her… he wouldn't bite her. At least not yet… not till you beg me to.

  "I might," she whispered. Shit… what was she saying?

  Yeah, she would. But not yet.

  He became dull heat, blanketing her, sending pleasure through every cell of her, licking away the sudden smolder he'd put onto her skin followed by a kiss that made it burn hotter. The arch of her neck was gasoline on his open flame. He lowered his mouth to it, like lowering a torch, and let the inferno consume him, then drew back to study her throat and willed himself to save the best for last. Not yet…

  Kissing along her collarbone, finding the delicate tips of her breasts, suckling the tight dark pebbles, making her moan and lift her hips until her fingernails dug into his shoulders, he took his time. He knew… soon. Yeah, he felt it all, too. Baby, be patient… you'll want this to last.

  Abandoning the soft mounds of flesh to explore each tender underside, his tongue trailed down her belly drawing a slow hiss of air from her as she arched again. I know. The sound of her voice made his hands splay under her rising backside, drawing a harsh gasp from her with each gentle pull of skin, the smell of her unleashing bands of color behind his lids, every shudder almost making him forget this was her first time and that his mouth needed to take her, tease her, totally spend her.

  He buried his nose in a downy forest of curls where a stream of pure want spilled from her plump slit. Oh… man… she was so wet it was dissolving his control. And she smelled so damned good, was so swollen, he could hear her pulse between her legs. His moan traveled inside her, quaking her womb, causing her to grab the silk sheets in another hard arch.

  It made him mentally tell her the truth. Baby, you don't know how long I've waited for this. Ever since he'd let her sleep untouched on his mother's sofa. You know how many nights I went to bed jonesin' for you, la amante? Losing my mind in my own mother's house…

  Gentle caresses sent the message, he opened her with deep kisses, letting her feel the softness of his mouth against the soft slickness of her, preparing her to soon receive the opposite of that. Her fingers raked through his hair, holding him to her, a deep guttural moan aching within him as it pushed its way up her abdomen. He caressed her hips with his palms flat, tracing them, while his tongue drizzled pleasure into sweet folds and flicked at her bud. He let it find the deep cavity that had a throbbing rim, circling it, intensifying the ache, making it flutter with contractions, sending her voice through the roof as he probed gently at the thin skin that was partially blocking him easy entry—refusing to stop until the passageway became newly flooded. Then he drove in his tongue for real, claiming her sweet territory.

  She called his name in her mind and it instantly came up from her throat low and deep. That was the sound he'd been waiting to hear. She'd called his name, repeating it like the refrain of a song that soon lost its beat and measure, drawn out on a spasm that choked before it died on a breathless gasp.

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled from the corners of them down the sides of her pretty face. He could taste the salt in each fast-running drop the moment they hit the air. When he lifted his head to witness his handiwork in her expression, a sheen of fresh orgasm-perspiration made her skin glisten. He felt her total surrender, saw it glittering in her irises, the torch fire making it dance as her hands again found his shoulders and she slowly closed her lids, tilted back her head to expose her throat. He ran his tongue against his teeth—not this time. Not her first time. No. He'd be gentle.

  But it was her ragged breathing that was messing him up, just like her urgent arch had… just like her racing pulse did. He slid his hand down her inner thigh, opening her wider, the rapid thud in her femoral artery a magnet. He was trying so hard to simply love her like a man, and not like what he truly was. She had given herself freely without him having to employ any powers of seduction from the dark side of his being, and that gift deserved to be cherished with the best he could give in return. Pure pleasure.

  He studied her face,
the tilt of her chin, and allowed his eyes to slide down her throat, her deep breaths burning him. He watched her chest rise and fall, lungs expanding and contracting like she couldn't get enough air—because of him. She was in his bed—his lair. She had gone against family, just for him. She had crossed a prayer line and left a fortress—just for him. He hadn't even called into the night for her, and she knew what he was, but yet she came to him on her own, regardless. And she was writhing beneath him—warm… wet… suffering with a need he understood all too well.

  It messed up his reason, her sweet seduction had, and now it was threading its way through the dark crevices of his mind… that place within him that had wanted her like this for so long. He had to honor that request, as well as his own nature. The night was young, and he owned it.

  He slid against her like they shared the same skin, swept his cheek hard against the side of her neck, making her shudder, then captured her earlobe with his lips, suckling it, drawing the same pleasure into it that he'd just visited upon the delicate bud between her legs. He could feel her open her eyes with the gasp she'd released, shocked. Yeah, hombre, do her right. The night was young, and so was she. She'd never been with a man before. Don't break the seal on this package too fast—be all-pro. Give her the best.

  Her grip tightened on his shoulders as he left her earlobe just before she climaxed, and he breathed a command into the canal of it. "When I call you, come to me. Hear?"

  She nodded and shut her eyes tight, her body moving beneath him, trying to capture him within it, but he shook his head no. Not yet. Her response was a series of short pants that he stopped with his mouth, his kiss deep and feral as his tongue scored the roof of hers and concentrated on a single point.

  In his mind he could see that agonized strobe of tender flesh within her canal. It hid just behind her cervix, deep, like a glowing ember that had never been properly stoked. He copied its throb into her mouth, using the tip of his tongue to make the transfer, then deepened the French kiss until she almost choked on her own spit when she came hard.