A Night of Forever (9 page)

Aidan focused on him. Their leader. He pierced the
man’s soul with his gaze and relished when the man shivered. He
could hear the rapid beat of his heart, practically taste his fear.
His bald head glistened with sweat, his swollen belly pushing
against the seams of his black jacket as he panted.

Growling low in his throat, Aidan gripped the bars
harder and pulled them apart. The screech of metal interrupted the
sound of snarling wolves below. The bars parted easily under his
strength, far enough that he could fit through. The feminine
screams turned high-pitched. Fear vibrated the very air around him.
He would see they all paid. But not now. No, he had more important
things to worry about.

Aidan released his hold and fell, landing in a
crouched position on the ground. Slowly, he lifted his head,
focusing on the wolves. One was lying upon the ground, bleeding,
still. The other was limping its way toward Mary Ellen. She drew
her knees to her chest, her face pale in the torchlight, her
whimper heart-wrenching.

With a cry of outrage, Aidan burst forward, teeth
bared. He hit the wolf before the animal sensed him coming. The
beast rolled to its side, taking Aidan with him. Crushed beneath
his weight would have killed a lesser man, but Aidan wasn’t exactly
human. Aidan shoved his palms into the animal’s side. The wolf flew
across the room, hitting the stone wall with a thump. The animal
cried out, sliding to the ground.

Aidan jumped to his feet. “Mary Ellen, now!” He held
out his hand.

She stumbled upright, her body quivering with fear
and exhaustion, but her eyes were trusting, so damn trusting. He
reached her in one step, wrapping his arm around her waist and
pulling her up hard against him. The werewolf was regaining his
feet, his gaze locked to them.

Aidan glanced up at the windows, the spectators were
gone, leaving behind only a trail of terror and regret.

“Hold tight,” Aidan said. “It’s going to get
interesting.”

****

As Aidan raced forward, headed toward the wall, Mary
Ellen faded into darkness. It wasn’t until the cool night air
whispered lovingly over her face that she stirred. How very odd she
felt, floating between darkness and light. She knew Aidan still
held her, she could sense his presence and breathed in his spicy
scent. She knew that somehow they had escaped certain death, yet
couldn’t manage to dredge up enough energy to care.

“Mary Ellen, open your eyes.”

The pressure of Aidan’s arms lessened and she felt
her body sliding down his hard form. The friction caused an odd
heat to fill her veins. She had the sudden desire to be closer to
him, to wrap her arms around his waist and never let go. Her feet
hit the ground and she opened her eyes. His beautiful blue gaze
watched her as if he cared. Did he care? Was Sally right? Or had he
merely saved her because she was Grayson’s sister-in-law?

He reached over her shoulder and pushed open the
door to a large cottage.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice soft, weak. Why
was she so weak? The night sky above practically spun and she
couldn’t quite feel her body.

“You need to regain your strength.” He scooped her
up, cradling her against his chest and carried her into a foyer. A
dingy, dusty place, but even she could tell that with a little
polish it would be rather pretty. A curved oaken staircase, wooden
floors, even a country mural on the walls.

She had little time to study the cottage before
Aidan carried her up the stairs. Exhausted, Mary Ellen rested her
head on his shoulder, and sank into him, trusting the man. “Where
are you taking me?”

He made his way into a long hall. “So many
questions.” He smiled down at her, a kind, soft smile that belied
the beast she’d seen in that dungeon. What was he? Angel or
Devil?

At the end of the hall he stepped into a large
bedchamber. Although the room was rather empty, the space was
clean, the bed made, as if someone had lived here, or was planning
to. “Who dwells here?”

“I will, soon.”

Surprised, she didn’t fight him when he laid her
upon the large, four-poster bed. Did that mean he’d be leaving
them? She felt completely angry and bereft at the thought. How dare
he abandon her, now of all times!

“Lay back,” he demanded when she struggled to sit
up. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Lost blood? To him, she realized with a start. Mary
Ellen sank into the bed. He’d fed on her. Her blood pulsed through
his body. She should have been disgusted, so why was she oddly
touched? Why did she feel closer to him than no woman should feel
toward a man she wasn’t married to?

He settled beside her upon the bed, his thigh
pressed to hers and even though their clothing separated their
skin, she felt his heat all the way to her toes. Gently, he brushed
the hair from her forehead. Chills and heat swirled through her
body, pooling into an aching need low in her gut. Even in her
muddled mind she realized this man wasn’t meek and passive. This
man would fight for her. Most importantly, this man would fight for
life. He would not be bowed down with hardship.

“Mary Ellen, I need you to do something for me.”

Odd thoughts swirled through her head as the bed
lulled her into its softness. Her lashes drifted down, her eyes so
bloody tired. Her body cold, numb, so she wasn’t sure where she
began and ended. She felt as if she dreamt. A beautiful dream.

“Mary Ellen,” he snapped.

“Hmm?” she managed.

Warm hands cupped the sides of her face. “Listen to
me, Mary Ellen. Please, keep your eyes open.”

But her lashes felt so heavy, her mind buzzing with
a numbness she couldn’t ignore. “You’re so warm.” She turned her
face into his hand.

“Because of your blood. Our bodies warm when we
feed.”

“Oh,” she whispered, too tired to react properly to
that odd statement. “I just need a little nap, all right?”

“No, not all right. Listen to me. I took too much
blood.” She didn’t miss the way his voice caught with what could
only be regret. “You need to do something for me, all right?”

“Right,” she murmured, wanting so badly to listen to
him, to understand the emotion she swore she heard in his
voice.

He lifted his arm and put his wrist to his mouth,
using his teeth he scraped a line across the pale skin. Brilliant
red blood welled from the wound. Aghast, Mary Ellen used her
remaining strength in an attempt to sit upright. “What are you
doing? Stop!” The movement was too much. The entire room spun and
Aidan faded from view. She felt his strong hands pushing her back
into the mattress. So tired, she let him.

“Drink.”

She dared to lift her lashes. His wounded arm was in
front of her, an offering of sorts. A strange offering. She wasn’t
sure if she should be disgusted, or honored.

“Will drinking your blood turn me into one of you?”
she managed.

“A vampire? No. A person is born this way.” He
cupped the back of her head with his uninjured arm. “But it will
give you life, and strength.”

“I see.” But she didn’t see, she didn’t understand
anything other than, for some reason, Aidan wanted her to drink his
blood.

He sighed. “You must drink, do you understand? You
must, in order to regain your strength.”

She nodded, but her eyelids were growing so heavy,
her lashes fluttering down. The entire world seemed to be fading
away. Something warm pressed to her lips. The coppery taste of
blood raced across her tongue, but somehow different…almost sweet.
Her cravings stirred and she eagerly swept her tongue across
Aidan’s wrist. His blood. Her blood. The taste surged through her.
An unfamiliar desperation urged her to drink more.

Her fingers found his arm and she gripped his wrist,
bringing him closer. Aidan’s blood pulsed through her body, filling
her soul, bringing her back to life. Her very fingers and toes
tingled with awareness as if she was coming back from a long, deep
sleep. His warm body rested beside her. She could feel his heart
pound against her, inside her, everywhere. They were one.

As warmth filled her soul, sated, she pulled back,
falling into the pillows. It was as if she’d just awoken from a
very deep sleep. As if she’d just feasted upon the best meal of her
life. Dust particles floated like flakes of silver on moonbeams
coming in through the open windows. Aidan’s lovely face peered down
at her. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Unable to resist,
she reached out and smoothed her fingers down the side of his face,
marveling over the feel of a new growth of whiskers on his
cheeks.

“You’re better?” he asked, his gaze filled with
concern…and something else…something that made her insides
practically melt.

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze searching her eyes.
“Mary Ellen, there are things I need to explain—”

She latched onto his shirt and pulled him forward,
pressing her lips to his. She didn’t want an explanation, she
wanted him. What could he possibly need to explain? His warm body
sank into her, molding to her form as if they fit together like
puzzle pieces. When his velvet tongue slipped between her lips, she
opened for him, deepening the kiss. Oh, how she needed this… needed
him.

With a groan that stirred her lust, he wedged his
knee between her thighs, spreading her legs as wide as her skirts
would allow. Why had she never taken the time to soak in his spicy
scent? How had she not noticed how muscled his body was underneath
the layers of his clothing? And how had she not noticed how truly
brave he was?

Because she’d kept her distance and she knew why
now… she was afraid of falling for the man. A man with no
connections, no family, no money. Afraid she’d end up poor and
miserable.

Money no longer seemed important. She was no longer
fighting her attraction. It didn’t matter that she had lived in
poverty most of her life and had sworn never to again. It didn’t
matter that her eldest sister had died in childbirth after eloping
with a poor Irishman. None of that matter but him.
Aidan
.
The man who had risked his life for her. The man who had given her
his blood.

His warm hands moved up her legs, bunching the
material of her skirts.

“Clothing, all these layers,” she muttered against
his mouth. “Are completely overdone.”

Chuckling, he pushed himself up and ripped the shirt
from his torso, tossing the poor garment to the floor. His chest
was wide, carved muscle. Like a work of art. Unable to resist, Mary
Ellen sat upright and ran her hands over his skin, spreading her
fingers through the crisp hair while he worked the buttons on the
back of her bodice.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he
whispered into her ear, a soft breath that tickled the loose
tendrils.

Instead of being thrilled, his words brought tears
of regret to her eyes. How stupid she’d been. He wanted her. She
wanted him, she’d just taken longer to admit her feelings. Blast it
all, she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her bodice came loose and he
tossed it to the floor where his shirt lay. When his hands moved to
her corset, her fingers boldly found the clasp of his trousers,
their hands in a frantic race.

“I’ve dreamt about you night after night,” he
whispered.

Her corset came undone and was tossed to the pile of
clothing on the floor.

“I think about you during the day.” His hands cupped
her breasts, her nipples beaded and hard through the thin fabric of
her shift.

Mary Ellen moaned as a heated flush rushed through
her body and pooled in that feminine spot between her legs. She’d
been attracted to men before, but never allowed herself to act upon
the feelings. Every impure thought she’d had toward Aidan since
meeting him, every feeling she’d tried to repress, surged through
her body in a dizzying whirl that left her breathless.

“You’re so lovely.” His mouth caught hers once more
as his hands found the smooth skin where her stockings ended. He
had her garters undone with a flick of his fingers. As his hand
moved toward that nest of curls shielding her femininity, he
deepened the kiss.

His fingers found her wet and ready. Mary Ellen
gasped, arching her back and taking him deeper. He knew exactly
where to touch her, how much pressure to apply, what words to
whisper. Entranced in a state of utter bliss, she didn’t protest
when he drew the silk stockings down her legs. Nothing but her
shift remained.

She knew she should have been embarrassed, but God
help her, she only wanted more of him, all of him. Mary Ellen
reached for the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down his
hips, far enough that the hard bulge she’d felt pressing to her
thighs was freed. Tentatively, she reached for his erection. A
friend had showed her a book of erotic drawings once, but those
drawings had been nothing compared to the reality. His body was
like pure stone, muscles carved from marble. He was a work of art
to be admired. She drew her fingers down his shaft, marveling over
the hard velvet feel of him.

“You’re going to kill me with your sweetness.” With
a groan, he lowered himself, his body pressing her into the bed.
Their gazes met and held, his eyes intense, so intense. “I know I
shouldn’t do this. I’m a bloody bastard for taking advantage of
you, but I don’t care. I want you, and you will be mine.”

His words brought a heated thrill through her form.
He pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss as his hands dragged
her shift down her body. The hair on his chest tickled her nipples
and made her breasts grow heavy. Hard and soft, the stark contrast
of their bodies was completely erotic. His hands moved up her
thighs to the curls hiding her femininity.

“So lovely,” he whispered as his finger slipped
between her damp folds. “So ready.”

When his thumb found the sensitive nub, Mary Ellen
cried out, arching her back. Pleasure after pleasure rippled
through her body. How did he know exactly where to touch her?