In the Dead of Cold (10 page)

Graham approached. “You now know how much he controls her. You know what you have to do, don’t you.” His quiet voice of authority was unnerving.

Milo nodded. He understood he needed to regain control by taking more from Jane than Bart had. He had hoped to share with her, not take, but if he wanted to keep Jane alive and out of Bart’s control, he had no choice.

Why did Bart have to come here now? Why did he have to choose this woman, the woman of Milo’s dreams? The only thing Milo wanted more than slicing Bart’s head from his body was to tell him to fuck off first. Milo was
not
going to lose the woman in his arms. He supposed it was a lot like fighting a cobra to gain access to treasure hidden deep within a pyramid.

Graham hit the elevator button for him. “Do you want any help?”

Milo fought the urge to laugh. What did Mr. M. want to do, hold her down? He shook his head, unable to ease the knot in his gut. “Post a guard outside my room. Instruct him to shoot her if she comes out. Because if she comes out still under Bart’s control, it means I’m dead. And I’d rather she be dead too, than to let her fall into Bart’s hands.” His chest hurt with the idea that there would be no sweet dreams, no sleeping beside her until Bart was out of her head. Why couldn’t he have met her in the bookstore instead of Bart? He stepped into the elevator with Jane still in his arms, determined not to waste another moment.

He supposed he should be glad it was the middle of the night. At least there were no guests wandering around, so Bart couldn’t grab a guest in retaliation. He looked down at Jane in his arms and held her closer, trying to warm her. She rested against his shoulder and smelled of his soap, which he’d slid over every silky inch of her only a few hours ago.

Milo reached his room. He kicked the door shut behind him, not stopping until he placed her on the bed.

She was back in his bed once more, where he thought she belonged. But now he was filled with uncertainty. He had hoped their first time together would be like what they’d shared in the dreams—candles, soft music, slow seduction, each touch an exploration, perhaps sexy games, or a dip in his hot tub with the two of them making love as the steam rose.

Thanks to Bart, Milo was not going to be able to enjoy a slow seduction. And this was far from any game. There was little time before Bart learned how to give strength to, as well as feed into and dominate, Jane’s abilities. The thought made Milo shudder. He had to gain back control before it was too late. Bart had already governed her actions in the bookstore, and he had tasted her blood and touched her enough to read into her thoughts.

His command of her out in the snowstorm only showed how great his authority over Jane really was. Combine that with Jane’s powers, and fuck, he didn’t want to think about what Bart could make her do.

Milo swallowed hard and knew he wouldn’t like himself very much after this. Jane might hate him too. She was already afraid of him. This might send her over the edge and out of his life forever. He couldn’t blame her. Dreams or no dreams, no woman wanted to be connected to a monster. In their dream, she’d called him a vampire assassin. It must be how she saw him, since they’d never once lied to each other in those dreams.

Taking her without her consent would also make him a vampire rapist.

Was that better than leaving her to Bart’s control? Was that better than giving her to Bart?

He almost couldn’t breathe.

Never taking his gaze from her, he reached for the button of his jeans.

She opened her eyes and stared right at him. Her eyes were black. His heart raced with fear and loathing and questions he didn’t really want answered.

What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if he did all he planned, and it wasn’t enough to erase Bart’s control?

“How nice to see you, Milo. Still Graham Masterson’s number one man, huh?”

The voice coming out of her mouth was harsh and raspy, the voice of Bart, a voice he hadn’t heard in many years, a voice he’d hoped to never hear again.

He grasped her arms as she slammed him with her energy. When she sent him crashing into the opposite wall, he pulled her from the bed and took her with him. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. Still, he managed to protect her, and he recovered quickly. She struggled in his grasp, but he didn’t let go. No doubt he added bruises to her arms. But he had no choice, not that it made any of this easier. His body left its imprint in the plaster on the wall.

She was like an uncontrolled fire hose, slashing, sliding, and working to slip from his grasp. He held tight.

He kissed her. His head swam at the contact.

She relaxed in his arms. And when she looked up at him again, the soft blue in her eyes reflected through the darkness.

“Help me, Milo,” she whispered. “Get him out of my head. He hurts—worse than the snow, worse than anything I’ve ever felt. He’s so dark and cold and evil.”

Then her eyes faded to black, and when she spoke, her voice was rough and harsh again.

“Forget it, Milo. She belongs to me now. I’ll let her keep sweet, happy memories of you.”

She tried to bite him. And she would have managed to sink her teeth into his neck had he not shifted at the last moment. He grunted with pain as she sank her teeth into his upper arm. Then he forced her back to the bed and pinned her beneath him as he held her wrists above her head.

Through gritted teeth, he forced out, “Never. I’d rather kill her first.” But that was a last resort, and he didn’t think he could follow through with it. Milo kissed her hard. His lips tingled from the contact. She tasted sweet, and he was reminded of the champagne in their dream. He wouldn’t have minded kissing her forever. But Milo knew Bart would build his strength within her until Milo’s kisses wouldn’t be strong enough.

Milo knew this to be true. Out in the snow, she had relaxed as soon as he’d kissed her. Now, it took a few seconds before she kissed him back. When she relaxed, he slipped his tongue past her lips. She put her arms around his neck and held him as if he were her lifeline amid an ocean of storm-driven waves. Her groan filled the silence. As he rested on top of her, he felt the racing of her heart. Her breathing was loud, raspy, and quick. With his energy, his desire, and his complete being poured into the kiss he bestowed on her, he thought perhaps it would be enough.

Yes, he was strong enough.

Yet, the minute he paused to take a breath, that rough, hate-filled voice echoed in the room again.

“I’m going to let you watch me take her, Milo. I’ll let you have a simple taste of her blood to know the sweetness that will never be yours before I kill you.”

Milo quieted her again with another kiss. He should have loved kissing her. It was, after all, what he’d dreamed about for two years. Yet, forcing his kiss on her made him no better than Bart.

Even if he was saving her life and the lives of countless others.

It was a minute before she relaxed beneath him.

“Milo. Help me…”

Her voice sounded so small. Bart’s strength was growing. Milo had to stop him.

Now.

With his lips on hers, Milo worked to ignore her sweet taste. He worked to ignore the perfect way her lips and her body molded to his. His hands shook as he pulled his jeans open.

No matter how much he wanted to feel her skin to skin, there wasn’t time to remove her wet clothes or his sweater. He only had seconds to reach under what was left of her skirt and rip away her aqua panties before Bart’s terrifying laughter echoed through the quiet of the room.

No, his kiss was not enough.

Bart managed to get in another harsh warning. “Don’t do this…”

Milo didn’t hesitate. He slipped inside of her velvet softness in one determined thrust as he kissed her again.

She turned away from him, broke his kiss, and cried out. Her “Noooo!” started out rough and angry—Bart’s voice. Then he was relieved to hear the tone slide into Jane’s voice as it became an “Ohhhh…” It sounded like the moans he brought from her in the dreams they shared.

When he looked down at her, he found her eyes blue and filled with unshed tears. It looked like she had an ocean of them to shed.

“Yes, Milo. It’s about time. You feel so good in me. Don’t let him back in. Please, don’t, Milo.”

He was glad she thought it felt good. It eased his heavy heart. A little. But did she feel how perfect they fit together, better than any dream, his dick harder than it had ever been, her pussy tighter than he dared to imagine?

Then she let out a pain-filled groan, and her voice changed. “You’re wasting your time, Milo.”

Bart didn’t sound as confident or as strong as he had before. “No, I’m not.” His kiss might not be enough, but he had more to share. Hell, he had a true heart, not a black one like Bart’s.

She grinned. Milo recognized Bart’s evil grin. He had grinned like that before he’d destroyed Milo’s life a century ago. He obviously thought Milo would do no more than kiss her again and make love to her. It was obvious Bart was more powerful than he had been the last time Milo had met up with him. But Milo wasn’t the same man he’d been then either. And he had more to fight for than himself. He had the closeness and the intimacy he’d shared in the two years of dreamland with Jane. He would never let that go. Not without a fight.

Through Jane’s eyes, Bart met Milo’s gaze. The blackness of his eyes glistened through the darkness. “You’ll kill her, Milo. It will be just like before. Remember what I told you the last time we saw each other? Remember how I told you it would always be for you?”

Milo paused, hesitated.

And Bart smiled.

Suddenly Milo didn’t care about the past. Nor did he care about the curse Bart had placed on him. He would rather Jane die at his hands than live a life as Bart’s slave.

As Milo pounded into Jane’s warmth again and again—like he’d done for the past two years in their dreamworld—he didn’t kiss her as he always had.

Instead, this time when he leaned down, he showed his fangs.

Jane stared up at him with black eyes. “Don’t. Do. This.”

Bart’s voice held raw rage. And his voice held something that might have made Milo smile had the circumstance not been so urgent. Fear.

And Jane fought Bart too. Her eyes lightened to a clear blue, and she turned her head and offered her neck to him.

“Please do whatever you need to before he kills me,” she whispered. “You feel good, perfect, real, but he hurts so much.”

Milo didn’t know if Bart could kill her with his control or his thoughts. But he wasn’t about to take any chances. He sank his fangs into her throat.

She shuddered and bucked beneath him. She tightened around him, and the fervor that gripped him in that instant was light-years stronger than anything they’d ever shared in their dreams.

Milo was caught in a frenzy of passion, and the rest of the world faded to black. Bart was gone; the resort was gone. There was only Milo with Jane in his arms beneath him, with Jane’s body wrapped around him as no other woman ever had. There was only the ancient dance they shared. There was only Milo, lost in her as she was in him.

He pressed his cock deeper, bringing a sigh from her, leading him to think they’d somehow slipped into one of the many dreams they’d shared. Each thrust went deeper than the last. The sounds of her panting touched his ears, but all he could concentrate on was the engaging dance of her hips as she attempted to keep up with him.

She grew tighter and wetter with each thrust, grasping him and squeezing him and keeping him within her where she threatened to burn him alive.

He placed one hand on the bed, keeping her in place and holding himself aloft so he didn’t crush her. With his other hand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and found her breast. Soft but firm, her hard nipple pressed into his palm and sent another wave of need to his dick.

And oh, the sweet taste of her. Never had he tasted anything so exquisite. Never had he needed to drink so much. He didn’t want to stop until he tasted every last drop. She screamed and shuddered against him, quivering and quaking as she came.

Her hot, juicy pussy threatened to strangle his dick, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. As he came and filled her completely, he tasted her orgasm in her already-so-sweet-and-perfect blood.

Chapter Six

Milo rested his forehead against hers and forced in breath after breath.

What was that joke James had told him? How do you burn five hundred calories in five minutes? Have five orgasms.

His heart hammered. Had he killed her? He hadn’t wanted to stop. Was Bart right? Could Milo not control his need for blood? All this time, Milo had always thought he could control it, but with one taste of Jane’s blood, he’d been lost. With each swallow, instead of being satisfied, the need for more had grown like a wildfire. The sweet smell of her blood filled the entire room. The wonderful taste of her lingered on his lips and his tongue and down his throat. It mixed with the tangy scent from their sex. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her again.

And as for his dick, well, he might have shot his wad all through her pussy, but it wasn’t satisfied either.

Milo took another deep breath and swallowed hard as he forced his fangs back so that his teeth were normal again. Mesmerized, he watched as a single drop of blood slid down the soft velvet of Jane’s throat. With the touch of his tongue, he wiped it away, and the bite on her neck closed. Tasting the drop was a mistake, and he shook, fighting the desire. He closed his eyes for a long moment, thinking—hoping that if he didn’t look at her, he wouldn’t want more from her. It didn’t help. He turned away, but her sweet-woman scent called to him. He leaned aside and pressed his face into the mattress. He didn’t have to look at her to know the closed bite on her neck was now a faint mark, something that might be misconstrued as a birthmark by a mortal. Yet, it was
his
mark, given to her by her soul mate, and any other vampire would know it as such.

Bart would recognize it.

Given the chance, Bart might kill her when he saw it.