Love Me to Death (Underveil) (12 page)

With a grunt, he pulled the suitcase to them and popped it open. Aleksi’s plan was good, but only if they could get the hell out before more of Fydor’s men came. “Put the bullets in here. If Fydor is really trying to have me killed, we can’t leave evidence she helped me.” She dropped them in a shower into the bottom corner of the suitcase. “Now hold this and we go.”

She gripped the suitcase tightly.

“Lean close.” He stared into her blue eyes and put his hands on her neck. As he chanted, the familiar pressure of teleportation began.

Once solidified, he leaned against the wall for support. He’d thought the worst of the pain was over when Aleksi finished removing the bullets, but teleporting proved him wrong. Just because bullets couldn’t kill him didn’t mean they didn’t hurt like hell. There must have released two dozen rounds into his body. Damned wood elves.

He straightened and took a ragged breath. He hadn’t been here since his father’s death over twenty years ago. They’d used to camp here when hunting bear and boar. The cabin looked exactly as he remembered it, sparsely furnished with only two beds, a stove, and rough-hewn beams on the ceiling. It seemed like only yesterday he was staring up at the knotholes in the beams as his father told him stories of his people and the species under the Veil.

Swallowing hard, he brushed away the ghosts of happier times. His father was dead. And now that he knew Arcos’s offspring was not complicit whatsoever in that murder, he was discharged from avenging his death. Or was he? Maybe the rumblings and rumors had some merit. Maybe something more complicated than the two kings killing each other in a swordfight had caused his father’s death.

His uncle had planted the location device in his dagger. Why? Aleksandra made it sound like he was behind all these attacks. Well, until he found out what was really going on, he would trust no one. The only thing he was really sure of was that this woman was paired with him by fate, and Uniter or not, he’d protect her.

Judging from the dim light coming in the windows, the tiny cabin was completely snowbound. Good. They would be all but invisible. He needed to be sure they stayed that way.

Elena had moved as far from him as the cord would allow. Her eyes were dilated. She lusted for his blood. If only she wanted
him
like that. Well, it was probably a good thing she didn’t at this point because he hurt too much to do anything to relieve her if she did.

“I have no spare clothes,” he said. “I can do nothing to eliminate the blood and make you more comfortable until I heal.”

“How long will that be?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t eaten in a while and am weakened. Usually, the wounds close in less than a day, so probably by this time tomorrow.”

She groaned and slumped to the floor, covering her face. “I’ll never make it.”

“That bad?”

“That good. You have no idea how good you smell.”

Well, part of him didn’t need healing and sprang to life at the husky tone of her voice. “How good?”

“So good, I don’t care that I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

Shit.
He’d done it again. Thinking of himself and not her. Dammit, she might have frostbite in those silly tennis shoes and blue jeans. “Take off your pants,” he ordered.

“Look, I said you smelled good. It wasn’t a green light.”

“Woman,” he said, jerking off her shoe, “be silent.” He removed her other shoe and wrapped her toes in his warm hands. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes. It hurts, so cut it out.”

It was imperative to get her dry and warm before frostbite set in. He reached up and unbuttoned her jeans.

She gasped and grabbed his wrists. “I said—”

“Say nothing.” He hadn’t intended his voice to be that gruff, but if she lost her feet, they were screwed. He yanked her wet jeans down to her knees, then pulled them the rest of the way off from the ankles. How could he have been so stupid as to have buried her in the snow in such clothes? Humans were not like Slayers and other Underveilers. They succumbed to the elements so quickly. He threw the wet jeans aside.

“Well, way to bypass foreplay all together,” she said. “Figures you’d be selfish, just like you are about everything else.”

He grabbed a bearskin from the floor and wrapped it around her. “I’m not ripping off your clothes to fuck you. Not that I don’t want to, because I do. And I will. But not until you ask me to…and I want you to be able to walk afterward, which you can’t do without feet. So just be quiet for now.” If she lost her feet, he’d never forgive himself.

Mouth open, she stared at him as he reached under the fur and wrapped the balls and toes of both her feet between his large hands.

She stared over at the iron potbelly stove. “Can’t you light a fire to warm it up?”

He shook his head. “Not in the daytime. The smoke will be spotted. No fires in the daytime. No lights at night.” He cupped his hands and breathed warm air on her toes. “Move your feet for me.” She did, and he sighed with relief. “I don’t think you were cold long enough, nor is the temperature so low you will have lingering effects.”

He stood and picked her up, every wound in his body screaming. Mercifully, the entire width of the cabin was hardly more than the length of the cord, so his walk was short. Holding his breath so he wouldn’t groan in pain, he lowered her gently on one of the two beds.

Then, he pulled the suitcase over and popped it open, relieved to find flannel pajamas and thick socks for her under a piece of red lingerie that made his mouth go dry. He grinned when he saw that Stefan had also included another pair of jeans and a shirt for him as well.

He shivered and the gunshot wounds answered with searing pain. He was wet, too, but with blood, not melted snow.

He tossed the pajamas and socks to her. “Can you manage these?”

“My feet are back, but they’re not happy about it.”

“I am.” He pulled out two protein bars and set them on the tiny table between the beds, then peeled off his bullet-perforated, blood-soaked clothes. Using her wet blue jeans, he wiped as much blood off his body as he could, wincing as the rough fabric scraped across the entry holes. To his relief, many of the wounds had begun to close and were no longer bleeding. Still, they hurt like hell. He needed to dispose of the clothes, but couldn’t do it yet. If someone came across the discarded items, they would know they were still in the mountains. He could teleport somewhere, but it created a trail and also took a ton of energy, which he needed in order to heal. For now, she would just have to endure the smell.

He opened the potbelly stove and shoved the clothes inside. That should buffer the odor of blood somewhat. He turned back around to find her staring. She had put on the pajama pants and socks and was still in the parka, eyes wide as they traveled up and down his body. Dammit, what shit timing to have his gut full of holes. Fate was a heartless bitch.

Chapter Eleven

E
lena almost fainted when Nikolai leaned over to shove the clothes inside the stove. Never had there been a more perfect body on the planet, she was sure of it, and his backside was just as delicious as the front. Her mouth watered, and as much as she would have liked to blame it solely on the blood lust, she was certain it was more than that.

Here was a man who had to be in excruciating pain, caring for her first. He’d taken off the bloody clothes. Though, based on his pained expression, it almost killed him to do it. He had done it for her. She’d totally misjudged him.

“Eat a bar,” he said, wrapping himself in a blanket from the other bed, teeth chattering.

She reached over, picked one up, ripped it open, and offered it to him. “You too.”

He took it and smiled, which cause her heart to soar. Such a beautiful smile, punctuated with a dimple on one side. Why had she never noticed that before?

“Your hair is wet,” he said between bites. “Is your coat wet?”

She chewed and swallowed before answering. “A little. I’m afraid of being colder if I take it off.”

“Being wet is the worst thing in a situation like this.” He shuddered from cold and dug through the suitcase again. “Layers are the most effective.” He pulled out several garments, but none had been altered to accommodate the cord with the exception of the pajama top she already had and one other T-shirt. “Take off the parka and your blouse if it’s wet, and we will let it dry. Put this on under the pajamas.”

Then, to her surprise, he turned his back. She stripped off the parka and found her shirt dry underneath. After putting on the other items, her teeth were chattering.

“I’m sorry we can’t start a fire,” he said, “but we must stay hidden.”

She took another bite of protein bar and pulled the brown fur all the way up to her neck, settling back on the pillows. “Where are we exactly?”

“We are in the Carpathian Mountain Range near the Romanian border. This was my father’s hunting cabin.” He settled into the tiny bed across from her and pulled up the thin quilt, cord stretching between them like a child’s jump rope.

She sat up. “Won’t they know to look here?”

He shook his head. “No. No one has been here in over twenty years, and I doubt my uncle Fydor even knows it exists.”

A shiver racked his body, and he winced. It must have hurt to have his muscles contract when he was riddled with bullet holes—bullets he had taken to protect her. His unselfishness was humbling. She’d thought so poorly of him, when perhaps it was only his nature and not his actions she’d taken into account. Even though he’d been a jerk about vampires and her weakness, he’d always protected her. And even though it was clear he wanted her in the hotel, he hadn’t pushed himself on her. She was also certain that the only reason he approached Stefan was because he knew she would benefit from it—again, he had put his comfort aside to see to hers.

And as far as his lying to her, though she didn’t like it, she kind of understood it. How well would it have gone over if he had told her, “Hey, you hate my guts, but I’m your mate for life”?

And she
had
hated him. Part of her still did, but it wasn’t him, per se; it was what had happened to her life since she met him, but that wasn’t his fault. Hell, his life was just as screwed up as hers since their meeting. Finding out his mate was a vampire couldn’t have been great news, and now his own uncle was trying to kill him.

He shuddered again from the cold.

“It’s warmer over here,” she said. “I have the fur thing and more blankets.”

It was clear from his furrowed brow that he was uncertain whether she was genuine or not. Perhaps he thought she was taunting.

Could she stand being that close to him while he still smelled of blood? Yes. She could. Look what he was enduring for her. He had to be in horrible pain.

“Please come over here. We’ll both be more comfortable.”

He rose and walked to her bed. “Are you sure? I’m still bleeding.”

She lifted the covers. “I’m positive. It’ll just be like being in a candy store while on a diet. I have tremendous self-control.”

If only it were just the blood. It was
him
she craved. But he was hurt. This was safe.

He slipped under the covers behind her and spooned against her body, pulling her close. Immediately, she felt warmer. Infinitely warmer, especially in a few select places. Holy shit, he smelled good. Edible. Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all.

N
ikolai shifted slightly so as not to press his erection against her. The combined body heat was a great idea, and he didn’t want her to regret it because one part of his body was more grateful than others.

Her hair still smelled like the bubble bath at the Time Folder’s house. His mind drifted to the way her flesh felt in the bathtub, and he got even harder.

She took a deep breath through her nose and squirmed. He was sure if he reached down inside those pajama pants, he’d find her wet.

He fought off a groan.

No. He couldn’t do that. He had to respect her wishes.

What were her wishes? Right now, he knew she wished she could have his blood—she wanted it so badly she was aching. Perhaps if he helped her with the ache, it would help the blood lust as well.

He reached between them and adjusted himself to no avail. The thought of getting her off was almost enough to drive him over the edge.

“I need to touch you,” he whispered in her ear.

Her body tightened. Other than that, she didn’t respond, nor did she breathe.

“Let me touch you, Elena. It will help with the craving you feel.” And it would help distract him from his pain to bring her pleasure.

She let her breath out slowly, not answering either way. Still, she hadn’t said no. Perhaps she was embarrassed to say yes. Humans were odd that way.

“You can stay fully dressed. I swear I will not… I won’t…”

Still, she didn’t answer, but she pushed back against him and gasped when her ass met his erection. He suppressed the urge to push back. He’d never wanted anyone like he wanted this woman, and here he was in bed with her, too full of bullet holes to do what his body demanded. Still, he could do enough if she’d let him. Her slender body squirmed in his arms, and that was sufficient invitation.

Her back was still to him, pressed tightly against his body. Slowly and deliberately, he slid his hand over her side, and the air rushed out of her lungs in a whoosh. He stilled, fingers just dipped inside the waistband. “With only my hand and your mind, okay? We can make you feel so much better.” She whimpered, and he moved his fingers only fractionally lower. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said, finally, and he almost came at the mere word. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she’d given him permission to touch her or that she admitted to trusting him that pleased him the most. Suddenly, he wasn’t cold anymore. He was warm everywhere.

E
lena thought she would die when he traced his fingers along the line of the elastic at the top of the pajama pants, then slipped them just underneath and stilled.
No. No, keep moving.
He was asking for her permission.

“Yes.” She had no other possible answer. Her body was screaming for his blood, for his touch, for anything he’d give her.

His lips grazed the skin of her neck, and she trembled, thrills shooting through her, pooling low in her body. And then he moved his hand, pausing right at the top of her curls, then tracing lightly back up in a maddening, erotic retreat. He smiled against her neck as she shuddered.

“So responsive,” he said. “You’re going to come so hard. You need to come hard, don’t you?”

Holy crap. How was she supposed to answer that? “I…”

Nikolai’s hand glided down again, this time dipping all the way between her legs, and her body jerked at the contact. Current buzzed through her. He paused and simply pressed his hand against her. “Just one hand this time, but imagine how it will feel when I use my whole body.”

She bit her lip and groaned at the image his words produced. The pressure was perfect, and she rocked against his hand. She’d never felt like this, not that she’d had tons of experience, but she’d had enough to know this wasn’t normal. She rocked against him again, and he chuckled. He thrust his erection against her backside and made a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest, causing her to nearly reach her breaking point.

Too much. It was too much. But not enough, somehow. Then he trailed his hand lower and slid a finger between her folds, then deep inside her. This time she groaned along with him.

“Imagine my tongue right…” He slid his finger out and straight to her most tender spot. “Here.” Then he applied pressure, making small circles.

Tiny electric pulses shot through her, and she gasped for air.

His lips tickled her ear as he spoke. “One hand and your mind is all it takes—your brilliant, inventive mind. Imagine what our bodies could do together. Think of the possibilities, Elena.”

But she couldn’t think of anything. She was so close. She could only feel his talented fingers between her legs, his big body at her back, and his warm breath on her neck.

Relentlessly, he circled with his fingers until she thought she might scream, and then he pressed his palm against her as a finger slid deep inside, and out, again and again. Then another finger joined the first, and he pushed deeper.

“So wet,” he whispered.

She pushed back against his hand, setting a tempo that he followed perfectly, keeping just the right amount of pressure.

He was too much. His voice, his words, his touch. Too much.

The rhythm of his breathing matched hers, and it thrilled her to know he was turned on, too. She increased the speed as she bucked into his hand, his fingers filling her and his palm pushing hard against her, causing the most amazing friction. And faster still.

“So close,” he whispered. “It’s right there. You’re ready.”

And she was.

“You need this,” he said. “Come for me now.”

And she did, shattering into a million pieces as she screamed his name.

N
ikolai had dreamed about what his fated mate would be like since he was a boy. Before his father’s murder, he had always imagined she would have the attributes of his mother: beautiful, loving, and fiercely loyal. Loyal? No. His mother was the worst kind of traitor.

For twenty years, he’d pushed his mother out of his mind and his heart. She had no place there now. Not when he held Elena in his arms. His mate, who exceeded all expectations.

He couldn’t pull her any closer, but he tried. He wanted to melt into her limp body, still quaking with aftershocks, and become one with her—a sentiment he’d never had in his many centuries of life. But this was how it was supposed to be with the mate fate had assigned. Human. Vampire. At this moment, it didn’t matter. She was his—even if she didn’t fully know it yet.

He kissed her shoulder and then pulled the bearskin up to her neck. “Better?”

She nodded.

She’d called his name out in passion. No greater aphrodisiac existed. He wanted to bring her to climax all over again if for no other reason than to hear her cry his name again. But there were other reasons. He wanted to please her. To see her happy.

She rolled in his arms to face him, placing her hands on his chest. He could feel her intent before her muscles contracted, and he placed his hand over both of hers. “No. Just enjoy the moment.” Her brow furrowed. “Sleep in my arms. That wasn’t intended to prompt an act in kind.”

“But I want…”

He placed his finger over her lips. “I know. And the fact that you
want
to touch me is enough for now.” The look of disappointment in her eyes tugged at his heart. “I want to be whole when we’re together. I need to heal.”

She sighed and rolled back over again, and more than ever he regretted the circumstances. He finally had broken through and now had to put it on hold because somehow the wood elves had allied with his uncle and had blasted him full of bullets. He kissed her neck and draped his arm across her body. “Sleep. When night comes, I’ll light a fire, and we can talk.”

“What about?”

He had no fucking idea, but there was nothing more interesting in the world to him than this woman. He wanted to know everything about her. What she liked to eat, her favorite music, the sounds she would make when he was finally deep inside her. Everything. Needing to feel her silky skin, he slid his hand under the hem of her shirt. “Does there have to be an agenda? Can’t we just talk?” She trembled as he cupped her breast. “Do you need to come again?”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry that I’m injured.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered.

He nestled into her hair and consciously relaxed, willing his body to heal. “No. We’re in this together. No fault.” Hand still molded over her breast, he reveled in the warmth of her body and the strength of her spirit. Perhaps fate wasn’t such a bitch after all.