Bitten by Ecstasy: 2 (Dark Judgment) (20 page)

Triumph and fear coated his tongue, eased down his throat to pound in his chest. “Wonderful. Thank you, Faolan, for your assistance.”

“Please.” Bastien could imagine the vampire brushing aside the appreciation with a nonchalant flick of his hand. “I look forward to seeing both of you again. Do you know where the
castel
is located?”

“Yes.”

Another appreciative laugh. “Of course you do. Until tonight, Bastien Sarris.”

As the line went dead, a reluctant smile quirked the corner of Bastien’s mouth. So the vampire had done a little digging of his own and found out who he was. Instead of this alarming him, satisfaction purred under his skin. He’d expected this move. And planned to use the vampire’s knowledge of him to his advantage to get closer to the
regina
and that traitorous asshole, Ryn.

“We’re in?”

He hadn’t heard Sinéad awaken, hadn’t sensed her sit up beside him. She clutched the sheet to her breasts, her dark-brown hair falling over her shoulder and pooling on the white cotton like a chocolate waterfall. Eyes no longer cloudy with passion or sleep studied his face with unblinking intensity.

“Yes,” he said, easing around to face her. When the cover shifted, dropping lower around his hips, he didn’t bother to cover himself and smiled with pleasure when her gaze dipped and lingered before returning to his face. “We’ve been granted an audience with the Cardei
regina
tonight.”

He’d expected an unholy gleam in her eyes or an eager smile. Not the somber stare. Not the gentle caress she brushed over his undamaged cheek.

Not the sensuous glide over his lap.

“Then let’s not waste another minute.”

She pressed her lips to his.

* * * * *

“Get dressed.”

Sinéad frowned. “Now those are words I didn’t expect to come out of your mouth.”

She clutched the white towel wrapped around her and tightened the knot between her breasts as she crossed the hotel room toward the bed where her bag sat.

Big arms snagged her around the waist and dragged her back against a hard, muscled, damp chest. The fresh scent of wind and wild heather enveloped her and she shivered as Bastien trailed his tongue over her shoulder and up the side of her neck before nipping her earlobe.
Lady
.
She sighed. The things he could do with his tongue.

The spontaneous display of affection should have disconcerted her. Instead she welcomed it—craved it. While she would most likely never be comfortable with the casual touch of others, in the past few days and especially in the dark, sex-filled hours of the previous night, Bastien’s touch had become imprinted on her skin and soul. It was as familiar to her as her own—maybe more so.

One thing was for sure. She would never put a knife to his balls again.

“Believe me, it’s not because I don’t enjoy being inside this beautiful body.” He pressed a kiss to the crook where her neck and shoulder met. She shivered. “But I have something to show you, so hurry up.” With another quick kiss, he gently pushed her in the direction of the bed.

“I don’t like surprises,” she grumbled, thrusting her hand in the black duffel bag and withdrawing her customary black shirt and cargo pants.

Bastien snorted. “Seems to me your life has been chock full of ’em the last few months.”

“My point exactly.” She dropped her towel and satisfaction coursed through her at the audible rush of air from across the bed. In the past, she’d barely paid any attention to her appearance. What was the point? She pulled on her pants then slipped her shirt over her head. A pretty face didn’t make a person’s sword arm any stronger or weaker. Yet one glance from Bastien or an uncensored reaction to her nakedness and she felt…beautiful. Wanted. Hell, in three hundred years she…just…felt.

For her entire existence, her one concern had been hunting—killing vampires who preyed on the weak. And after discovering she was human, her goal had changed to recapturing the life she’d been bred and trained for. But after a week with Bastien, even that purpose had changed. She didn’t know this female woman she’d become as a freak result of a blood transfusion.

But one thing was crystal clear to her.

If she had sixty years rather than six hundred, she would grab the wink in time if it meant spending those years with Bastien. She would gladly turn to dust with a smile on her face if she crumbled in his arms, experiencing the love she shared with him the night before.

Even as a small voice of reason argued such a convoluted statement was the result of too many Lifetime movies, she knew. She
knew
.

He was hers for eternity…however long that might entail.

She froze. Stared at him in part horror, part wonder.

“You’ve changed me,” she whispered.

Bastien, having already clothed himself in jeans and a gray t-shirt with his magic, lifted his head and met her gaze. Regret briefly twisted his handsome features.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “If I could take it back—”

“No,” she slashed a hand through the air, impatient with his unrequested and unnecessary apology. “Not that. You’ve changed
me
.” She cupped her fingers between her breasts. Over her heart.

His expression smoothed into an inscrutable mask. His thoughts were hidden from her…except in his eyes. Those gorgeous, tragic eyes. Even after the hours of intimacy they’d shared, she glimpsed the expectation of rejection in their emerald depths.

“And you’re not okay with that.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She lifted her hands, held them out in front of her and studied her arms as if seeing them for the first time. “I’m not. It scares me. You threaten everything I’ve believed about myself, about my world. And I’m used to taking out anything that threatens me.”

Warmth thawed the ice in his features as a corner of his mouth twitched.

She scowled. “It’s not funny.”

“Of course not.”

“I lied to you, Bastien.” The confession burst past her lips on a rush of air.
No!
the same insidious voice scolded.
You’re behaving foolishly!
Sinéad shook her head
. I don’t care.
Hell, she was arguing with herself again. She wet her lips. “Yes, it’s true a cruxim cannot access the power of the Cross. And even though I’m human, it would’ve recognized my touch because of the blood I sacrificed into it when I pledged my loyalty to Lady Nef. But once we had the Cross back I intended to use you to call its power then take it from you and restore my immortality.”

Shame crawled through her, attaching to her heart, lungs and organs until she breathed it. When she’d initially broached the subject of the Blood Cross to Bastien in Dublin, her desperation had been so great her misery had superseded him, fairness and honesty. Now, a mere two days later, her urgency had diminished—it had been trumped by an even more powerful need…

Bastien’s happiness.

Though her life span would narrow to fifty or sixty more years instead of centuries, to see joy in his emerald eyes was worth the sacrifice.

Say something
. Her fingers curled into tight fists next to her thighs as she fought the urge to go to him, demand he berate her, curse at her.
Sweet Nef
, forgive her.

But he’d been betrayed before by one he’d called a friend. And she suspected the female he didn’t speak of had broken his trust as well. No, he wouldn’t pardon her plotting and lies. Forgiveness would be too much to ask. Her heart gave a painful lurch as if trying to escape any further damage she could inflict upon it.

Silence as loud and desolate as a death knell rang in the room. Though it was a struggle, she refused to avoid his steady, shuttered gaze. She would face the first flash of disgust when it came even though fissures crisscrossed across her soul. She would shatter in private.

A dark, ominous growl rolled across the room, like the rumbling beneath the earth. Rage and pain washed over her senses in a great deluge seconds before his fist slammed the wall. Cracks and jagged lines zigzagged over the drywall and dust sprinkled down in a white shower. His shoulders heaved, his head bent low. Sorrow mixed with hurt in an undecipherable tangle and the emotions lashed at her mind, her heart, her spirit. She’d caused his suffering.

“Bastien,” she croaked.

He didn’t respond to her plea. He didn’t even glance at her as he strode to the balcony door and threw it open with enough force the wood casing rattled. A warm late-summer wind blew in. The curls of air whispered through his waves and he stood still as if accepting the soothing caress he wouldn’t allow her to minister.

Grief welled in her chest—hers, not his—surged up her throat, the pressure strangling. She’d lost him. Even before she had him, she’d lost…

In a movement too fast to track with human eyes, Bastien circled the bed, wrenched her into the unyielding line of his body and crushed her mouth beneath his. He marauded her, his tongue stabbing past her lips to delve deep and conquer, take. Helpless under the onslaught, she submitted, opening herself to him, availing all of herself to him. She fisted his t-shirt, holding on as he slanted his head to consume more of her. With a groan, she rose into the embrace, silently begging him to take
more
. His fury still raged hot and strong against her mind, but she willingly surrendered. Anything to quiet the anger, soothe the hurt…

As suddenly as the kiss began, it ended. Harsh gasps filled the tumultuous quiet. Jeweled fire blazed in his eyes, the green depths alive with crimson flames. What did it mean? He wouldn’t have kissed her with such passion if he hated her…would he?

She lowered her shields, but as the first tendrils of emotion brushed over her senses he whipped around, startling her.

“Climb on,” he ordered in a voice that brooked no refusal. The glance he cast over his shoulder reinforced the demand. The part of her who’d never had a master, much less obeyed one, balked. But the part of her who recognized this male as owner of her newly awakened heart did as he instructed.

In a single leap, she bounded on his back, locking her arms around his strong neck and her legs around his narrow waist. He granted her one moment to adjust before bounding over the bed, snatching her breath away with his grace, agility and strength. He raced for the balcony door then emerged in the bright afternoon light. She blinked against the glare. Then gaped in shock as he vaulted onto the thin stone railing.

What the fu—

He dove off the ledge.

The wind screamed in her ears, snatching her own cry from her lips as the earth rose up to meet them at an alarming speed. Her heart plummeted then rushed toward her throat.

Tingles like low electric voltages crackled and sizzled over her skin where she pressed to Bastien. The currents slid over her breasts, stomach and between her legs, a stunning caress that would have left her breathless if any air remained in her lungs.

Then as fast as they plunged toward the Boston streets below, Bastien switched direction and bulleted toward the blue, cloudless sky.

Her cry transformed into a shriek of pure delight. They were flying. Soaring. Huge, black-and-white banded wings beat on either side of her, taking the hippogryph and its rider higher and higher until the clouds obscured the earth below. She laughed, her arms holding tight to the chestnut feathers of his neck. The same vivid colors covered his sides and crown, the brilliant hues broken by the distinctive, black crest pointing in the air like a thick cowlick that refused to be slicked down.

Beneath her, his muscular body flexed and shifted, his talon-tipped forelegs working in perfect tandem and accord with his equestrian hind legs.

He was beauty in motion. The true definition of magic.

Joy rocketed through her.
Lady
, how she had missed this! There had been days she’d almost gone crazy with being bound to the earth, unable to fly, unable to be unfettered. Free.

Knowing Bastien had cast his magical net around them—a
gyges
, he’d called it—to prevent them from being spotted, she closed her eyes and raised her arms high. Balancing her feet on the hard muscles where wing met flank, she stood. She didn’t fear falling. Not up here. Not where she belonged. Her hair streamed from her face, her clothes pressed against her body like a second skin and the air threatened to knock her to Bastien’s back. But she held still, knowing no harm would come to her with the hippogryph as her protector.

An image of the cute guy in the
Titanic
movie, perched on the stern of the doomed ship, came to her mind. She grinned widely.

“I’m the king of the world!”

A snicker echoed in her mind.

“I know, I know,”
she sent to him, lowering to a crouch and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his crown.
“Remote snatched.”

He didn’t respond but dipped to the side, making her squeal in glee.

“Hold on tight,”
he warned then after she increased her grip on him took off across the sky, a mythical beast of power and magic claiming this aerial realm as his own. Claiming it for her.