Authors: Marie Treanor

Tags: #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Paranormal

Blood Eternal (19 page)

BOOK: Blood Eternal

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Damp with sweat, sated, exhausted, she turned with him as he eased his body off her, so that he remained inside her. She smiled sleepily into his shoulder, licking a bead of her own salty moisture from his pristine skin. She felt his lips in her hair and snuggled against him to savor the moment. She had no intention of sleeping just yet, but somehow it came to her, soothing, healing, and deep.

She woke to daylight, the brightness of the sun filtered by the room’s curtains. She knew he was there before she even opened her eyes and saw him at the window that looked over the village. Wearing nothing except his dark trousers, which he hadn’t troubled to fasten, he appeared to be observing through a small gap in the curtain.

“Saloman?” She sat up as reality in the shape of the current crisis broke into her happiness. “What’s going on?”

“A market has set up in the street. They’re using your gatepost to support an awning.”

Elizabeth closed her mouth. She narrowed the question. “Where are the hunters?”

“Downstairs.” Saloman released the curtain and turned to face her. “Discussing me. And you. They’ve just decided not to wake you.”

“Why? Where are they going?” she demanded, electing to leave the discussion about the propriety of eavesdropping until later.

Saloman shrugged, walking toward her. “Nowhere yet. They’ve been debating the comparative merits of Istanbul and Budapest. And of just staying here for a few days to see what happens.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Can you really hear all that?”

“If I stick my ear to the floor.”

Laughter caught her unaware, and the flickering smile of response in his eyes warmed her as he sat on the bed beside her.

“Are they . . . all right?” she asked with difficulty.

“They are excited, frightened, confused. But whatever you said to them last night has made an impression.”

“I think it was you who made the impression.” She hesitated, then added, “To some, whatever impression you make will never be enough. Mihaela’s family was killed in front of her by a vampire when she was a child. Konrad . . . Well, Konrad will always have difficulty accepting you.”

“Another excellent reason for killing him.”

She peered at him. “You
are
joking, aren’t you?”

He made a small sound that in a being that breathed would have been a sigh. “Not entirely. Are you hungry?”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe,” she said, smiling into his eyes.

“Ah. That sort of hunger I can more easily assuage.” With the pressure of his body, he pushed her back into the pillows and tore the sheet from between them. He drew back, and, under his avid gaze, Elizabeth squirmed. Heat surged through her. On the verge of losing herself once more in sensuality, she realized with a hint of desperation that their time together would pass and she still would not have said what she needed to.

“I missed you,” she whispered, as the smile died on her lips.

“I know.” He laid his palm flat over her heart, and as if he acted as a conduit, she heard its rapid increase in beat. “I thought of you when the mountain shook. I wanted you in my arms to complete the experience.”

The wonder of that joined the sweetness induced by his hand turning on her breast. He held his palm flat, only just touching her nipple as he brushed it back and forth. The pleasure was exquisite. She wanted to thrust her breast fully into his hand, yet she couldn’t bear to change what she felt now.

With an effort, she said, “I sensed something. Round about the time of the earthquake. It felt like you. I was frightened for you.” Reluctantly, it seemed, his gaze lifted from her flushed, elongated nipple to her face. “Were you still there? In danger?”

“A little, perhaps. It’s a foolishness I can’t resist. I love to feel the power of the earth. I like to feel one with it when it shakes.” His hand closed suddenly on her breast, and she moaned, pushing into his palm at last. “I wanted you when it did. I wanted to be loving you and share two climaxes at once. Perhaps that is what you felt. Or perhaps it was Luk’s awakening immediately afterward. Because that’s what truly scared me.”

“Why?” She gasped as he lowered his lips to her other breast and began to tease the nipple with his clever, sensual tongue.

“Because he should have remained at peace. Wakening him was a cruelty that amounts to sacrilege. Sometimes the dead have to stay dead.”

His mouth closed beguilingly on her breast and began to suck. With an almost superhuman effort, she caught his head in her hands and tugged until he released her nipple with a reluctance that fed her desire almost more than the act itself.

“Why didn’t you kill him the other night? Why did you let him go?”

Almost angrily, he said, “Because there was a moment—” His eyes closed. “Just one moment when he looked at me with Luk’s eyes. With friendship and love.”

Her fists closed involuntarily, tangling in his hair. His eyes opened. “And then he kicked me into the dirt, and the moment passed. He hates me and is protecting Dante.”

She touched her forehead to his. “Saloman.
Can
you kill him now?” She didn’t mean his physical strength, and they both knew it.

He moved, covering her body, and she felt his hardness slide against her inner leg. “Yes, I can kill him now. You are very wet between your thighs. Perhaps there’s something else I can do for you.”

She pushed at his chest, and he let her dislodge him and roll over until she lay on top of him. “And I for you,” she said, laying her hands flat on his chest to lift herself. She found his shaft without difficulty, captured it between her thighs, and adjusted her position. Then, her gaze never leaving his, she lowered herself onto him and moaned as he filled her. He thrust upward, grasping her hips, and in the frantic, sensual fight for control of their loving, all else disappeared. There was only Saloman, and love, and fierce, hot, unstoppable pleasure.

Saloman bit into Elizabeth’s throat, loving the way her body jerked beneath him in mingled pain and delight. He would climax again very soon, and wanted to do so with her blood rushing into his body in an endless cycle of pleasure. No one tasted like Elizabeth: power and sweetness, passion and . . . her. Simply her. He drew harder on her wound, feeling her buck under him with helpless ecstasy. She loved the blood drink, and he let her see in his mind how much sensual joy it gave him, doubling her enjoyment.

Hammering into her in strong, forceful thrusts, he took her, body and blood and mind, until a climax roared through him. One more twist and she was with him. He wanted to drink from her forever, feel that hectic, drumming heartbeat slow to match his own, feel her teeth in his veins, drawing his blood into her as he drank and made love. It was the one most exquisite of pleasures that he had never enjoyed with Elizabeth and never would.

He was taking too much. He had to force his mouth to loosen, to heal her wound before the pain intruded. As her convulsions eased, he rolled onto his back so that she lay sprawled across his body while he savored the last waves of physical ecstasy.

“I must trust you,” she whispered, so quietly and muffled into the skin of his chest that he barely heard her. “I wouldn’t let you drink from me if I didn’t.”

Saloman listened to the sound of his own heart, forcing it to slow down. “To be fair,” he said calmly, “there is nothing you could do to stop me.”

For an instant she lay still, as if surprised to have gotten an answer, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. Then she raised her head and propped her chin on her hand to look at him. “But there is. I could say no, and you wouldn’t.
That
is trust.” She gave a quick, wry smile. “Of course, I couldn’t trust you not to bite anybody else who says no—”

“Be easy. They hardly ever do.”

“Only because they don’t know it’s happening.”

“You know it’s happening.”

“I love you. That’s different.”

Saloman twitched lazily inside her. “To each his own. Have you been talking to Mihaela?”

“She said something last night that bothered me. She said I didn’t trust you. And I do.”

Clever Mihaela. Perceiving the seeds of dissension and watering them. He said, “There are levels of trust. We can’t reach them all at once.”

She slid one of her hands up his chest to touch his lips. “We walk a bit of a tightrope, you and I,” she whispered. “I overbalance and overcompensate. . . .”

“But you don’t fall.”
Never fall . . .

She smiled. “Not yet.” Her lips parted again, as if she’d say more; then, as if changing her mind, she kissed him instead. Saloman had no objection to that. He held her buttocks, caressing and kneading until she slid out of his hands, tracing kisses down his chest and belly, and reached, inevitably, the rigid obstacle of his cock. Apparently it was no obstacle, for it received more than its share of kisses. Closing his eyes, he tangled his fingers in her hair and let her have her way. It was sweet and intense and left him momentarily helpless.

Afterward, he drew her up the length of his body to lie with him in the afterglow.

Greetings, Saloman
.

He froze. Although the waves of orgasm still clouded his mind and his self-control, he was certainly not imagining the clear, mocking voice in his head. He shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’d left the door open to communication that hadn’t, until now, been initiated.

Luk,
he managed, with an effort at urbanity.
How are you?

Angry. Vengeful. Gathering strengths, old and new. All the things you expect. And fear.

I don’t fear you, Luk.

Luk’s laughter was mocking, too loud and too much for whatever amusement had caused it. It echoed around Saloman’s head, chilling his warm, sated blood.

You should, Saloman. You should. You know I’ll come for you.

I know.

Another burst of manic laughter.
Look forward to it, Saloman
.

Luk’s huge, disturbing presence slipped away. Saloman didn’t try to prevent it or to follow. Curiously, what he chiefly felt wasn’t anger or even the fear Luk was trying so hard to instill. It was loneliness. The massive presence of another Ancient in his mind was something he had never thought to feel again, and even threatening and full of hate, it had made him yearn for more.

“Saloman. Saloman!” It was Elizabeth, lying across his chest, her large hazel eyes dark with anxiety as they stared into his. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Nothing. I was talking to Luk.”

Her eyes searched his. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. He just wants me to know he’s strong. Which might mean he isn’t yet as powerful as he would like to be. Support from Turkish vampires doesn’t come as fast as he expected.”

“You know that?”

He moved, rolling her under him. “I know there will always be a few vampires tempted by the return of chaos. I know who is still loyal to me. And outside of Istanbul that is the vast majority, at least while I’m known to be in Turkey.”

“Maybe you should stay until
he
leaves.”

You
should stay. Always “you,” never “we.” Why did he want that? Why did he always want more when she was already everything he needed? When he could feel with every glance, every touch, that she would die for him?

He veered away from that thought, banishing it ruthlessly. He said, “Perhaps. But I have too many other things to do in too many other places. I can’t afford to let this rebellion spread beyond Turkey. And we both know he’ll come to Budapest eventually.”

“You can’t really know that,” she objected.

“I know it as well as I know Luk. He’ll remember the prophecy he made centuries ago. That in Buda and Pest would begin the new age, when I am supplanted and the new dawn of the vampire breaks.”

Her eyes changed, fear whipping through them, swiftly chased by skepticism. “That’s bollocks,” she said roundly, and he smiled with genuine amusement, kissing her mouth.

“It’s not bollocks,” he said judiciously. “But I’d say it’s open to interpretation.”

“Wasn’t he ever wrong?”

“Not that I can recall. But then, he doesn’t see everything, and doesn’t tell everything he does see. And many things haven’t yet happened that perhaps never will.” He released her, and she sat up.

“I’m hungry,” she said, reaching for her clothes. “I’ll just get some coffee and breakfast.”

“And then come back to bed,” he said, rising on one elbow to watch her dress. It was an experience he always found peculiarly erotic.

“Why?” she teased, pulling on a short, provocative top. “Do I need more sleep?”

“You need more fucking,” he said, and before her blush had properly begun, he reached out too fast for her to see and dragged her back onto the bed.

BOOK: Blood Eternal

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