Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (38 page)
Authors: Colleen Gleason
He sat down on the seat and kicked-started her up. He loved the rumble, the feel, the beauty of it. The vibrations were heaven.
A part of his life had been returned to him.
He thought about taking it out but dawn was coming and the mechanics needed to be on their way. He shut the engine down then took his time thanking each of the vampires for the work they’d done.
Iris’s cruiser sat in the corner, covered and completely undisturbed.
Duke gestured for his crew to head out through the open garage door and he followed. Connor tracked beside them onto the drive. He looked up into the night sky and up and down the street, but damn if Iris hadn’t taken every precaution. He could see her spell all the way to the streetlight about sixty yards away. She’d made sure the vampires were protected from any local, mistrusting witches.
The men hopped on their own bikes and within seconds were making their way slowly down the suburban street. They knew the drill. They were three Crescent vampires in Elegance and needed to keep a low profile. They could have flown the distance, but each had the same philosophy: Why fly when you can ride?
When Iris came up beside him, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Did you give them directions?” she asked.
“Yep, through Revel and Shadow Territories since they’re the closest. The last thing these men need to do is cross Sentinel Bridge. The Elegance Border Patrol would probably haul them in for questioning.”
“And they might never be seen again.”
He turned to her. “You overwhelm me, Iris.” He slipped his arms around her and held her close.
She caressed his face. “The Ducati was the least I could do for the man who has so completely changed my life. It seemed like such a small thing when compared to having you in my home and sharing my bed. I don’t think I knew how alone I was until you showed up.”
He kissed her, a slow tender brush against her lips. When he drew back, he slid his arm round her and led her back to the garage, closing the door.
She gestured to the bike. “You don’t want to take her out? She’s ready and you’ve got a few minutes yet.”
“I need something else right now.”
Since he lowered his hand to fondle her bottom she looked up at him and smiled. “I like your thinking.”
When she took his hand then turned toward the door to the house, he followed after. “I’m still mad about the spell.”
But she only laughed, maybe because he didn’t sound convincing.
As she led him past the dining table, she turned to look up at him. “I’m really dirty, Connor. Think you could take me to the shower and get me clean?”
He growled softly. “Definitely.”
***
Connor’s reaction to the Ducati was exactly what Iris had hoped for. He’d had the strong wind-in-the-face expression she’d wanted, then he’d kissed her.
She knew exactly what the bike meant to him, a symbol of what he’d lost and hopefully what he’d now gained because they’d become a couple, even a team to help build something better in Five Bridges.
The shower was small for his big body, but the cramped space made it fun and close and wonderful. She kept her hands on him the whole time and he returned the favor.
Making love with Connor was better than the sweetest dream. He was an attentive lover, always gauging her reaction to the slightest pressure of his tongue, his fingers, and especially his cock. She worked hard to match him, learning the ways he liked to be sexed up, then brought home.
Then of course, there were times she attacked his body, like now in the shower, for the sheer pleasure of exploring every bulked up muscle he possessed.
After a few minutes of soaping each other up, he lifted her up against the tile wall and entered her. She moaned heavily, savoring the connection as he began to drive into her. The water hit them both, another erotic layer of feel-good.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and for just a moment she was reminded of flying with him for the first time.
She held his gaze. “I love you.” Then she kissed him.
His whole body responded as he pierced her mouth with his tongue and groaned. He drew back just enough, all the while thrusting into her. “I love you, too, Iris. So much.”
He kissed her again, then moved his hips vampire fast, until her mouth opened wide and she screamed the ecstasy that poured through her.
He roared his pleasure at the same time, and their energies merged once more.
When the last pulse settled down, Iris kissed Connor over and over. He stayed connected to her for a long time, doing the same thing.
“I never even imagined you,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“All this time, I’d come to accept the harshness of this life in Five Bridges. Now it’s as though an oasis appeared in the middle of a barren desert and I get to live in it. I could never have imagined such a bounty here in our desolate world.”
***
Connor finally drew out of Iris, but only because he wanted to take her to bed. He felt a powerful need to spend at least an hour worshipping her body and making her scream repeatedly. He would only be happy when he’d worn her out.
He dried her off and led her to her bedroom, drew the covers back then settled her on the sheets. He made love to her as though this was their last day on earth. He promised himself he’d do the same for the rest of their lives, no matter how many days, months or years would belong to them.
When he’d professed his love repeatedly and she was at last asleep in his arms, the French doors suddenly blew open.
Iris remained asleep, but the smell of thyme filled the air and he could sense Violet’s presence once more. He owed the woman everything. She’d stayed behind year after year, until she could resolve a decade of suffering for both him and Iris.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He felt soft fingers down his face.
You’re welcome,
swept through his mind. Then,
Tell Iris I love her, but I’m going home now. For good
.
She’ll understand. It’s what she wants for you
.
And let her know I’ll be with Anna
.
Connor’s throat grew tight as he felt the wind sigh and Violet’s fingers once more touched his face.
He felt her move over to Iris and watched the slight indentation on her cheeks as Violet touched her for the last time.
The wind blew quickly out of the room, but Violet left the French doors open and for that he was grateful. He could smell the myriad of scents from Iris’s garden and each one eased his heart a little more.
He was home now.
After three decades of shifting for himself, he was home.
The End
Thank you for reading
Blood Flame
and I hope you enjoyed it.
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Dark and Damaged
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Caris Roane is a
New York Times
bestselling and award-winning author. She writes super-sexy paranormal romance fiction and loves every second of it. She's published thirty paranormal books to-date, some self-published and some for St. Martin's Press. She lives in the Desert Southwest, loves gardening, but really doesn't like scorpions. To find out more about Caris, visit her website at
http://www.carisroane.com
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Guardians of Ascension Series
– Warriors of the Blood crave the
breh-hedden
Dawn of Ascension Series
– Militia Warriors battle to save Second Earth
Blood Rose Series
– Only a blood rose can fulfill a mastyr vampire’s deepest needs
Blood Rose Tales
– Short tales of mastyr vampires who hunger to be satisfied
Men in Chains Series
– Vampires struggling to get free of their chains and save the world
The Flame Series
– Vampire Border Patrol officers battle the flame drug cartels
by Erin Kellison
A powerful dragon shifter has waited six hundred years to avenge the loss of his family, but the beautiful mediator sent to prevent violence among the Bloodkin doesn’t want to be his key to discovering the murderer–in fact, she wants nothing to do with dragons at all...
CHAPTER 1
The bones of a six-hundred-year-old skeleton lay on a wide, black laboratory table. Browned with time, they provided only a partial reconstruction of the individual’s form. The feet were missing, the ribs were broken, and the long bones were splintered. But the characteristics that had drawn Thane Ryce Ealdian from his long seclusion were the extreme curvature of the spine, elongation of the phalanges, and the ridges along the frontal bone of the skull.
Dragon shifter. Absolutely
.
A single glance at the bones and heat seared through Thane’s body, so he looked away, giving his attention to Dr. Buckley, the head osteology expert on the Kingman Hills archaeology project.
“We’ve become quite fond of her,” Dr. Buckley said as he put on a pair of latex gloves. “Named her Anna after one of our team members who we lost during the dig.”
Not Anna. Carreen
. And Thane didn’t care who they’d lost during the dig.
He swallowed his anger. Sometimes evidence of wounds survived the ages, even if the recipient did not. “Can you tell me how she died?”
“With remains this old, it’s impossible to be sure, but there are a number of clues that help illuminate her last days.”
Illuminate? Yes. With fire, if you please
.
“She suffered a blow to the head near the time of death—there are no signs that any healing took place.” Dr. Buckley lifted the skull to show a circular depression. “Blunt force, but I don’t think it killed her. She was also struck here”—he indicated a rectangular hole, just to the side of the nasal cavity—“by a dagger or some other sharp implement. It too could have occurred near or shortly after death, to humiliate her or disfigure her face.” Buckley looked up and met Thane’s gaze, paled at what he found there, and quickly averted his eyes. He swallowed hard before continuing. “At the time, her deformities would’ve made her a pariah in her community. The fourteen hundreds were particularly rough on shifters of all kinds. I’m surprised she lived to adulthood.”
Thane took a deep breath through his gritted teeth. Not
deformed
. Carreen was clearly mid-shift when she died, therefore stronger, but also more vulnerable. Why she had attempted shifting at all, a woman who’d always denied the dragon within, was the mystery.
Dr. Buckley pointed to a long, thin indentation on the inside of her pelvis. “She also sustained a sharp force trauma here, most likely from a sword or dagger.”
The room went hazy red. A slice like that to a woman of high birth could have only been intended to make absolutely certain she would bear no more heirs.
Thane looked up at Dr. Buckley, who took an immediate step back.
“Tell me about the infant.”
“Of…of course.” Dr. Buckley turned and retrieved a small metal tray from the shelf behind him. In the tray was a piece of skull, darker than the amber color of Carreen’s remains. The few pieces of bone—what looked like a bit of spine, rib, and possibly leg—were splintered like driftwood.
“We can’t determine the sex based on what we were able to retrieve,” Dr. Buckley began.
Boy
. It had been a boy named Rinc Ealdian. And now he was reduced to bones in a little metal tray. The child was six hundred years gone—six
hundred
years—and Thane still felt anger sparking the change in his blood. He breathed against it, concentrating on the chill of the laboratory and the smell of dirt that lightly permeated the air. Shifting now would solve nothing.
