Masquerade (Vampires Realm Romance Series Book 10) (20 page)

His words came back to her. Was this the prior engagement that his commander had been eager to keep?

Before the thought about reporting them to the Law Keepers had even fully formed in her head it had evaporated, chased away by the man who had dragged her out into the night. He trailed his fingers down the curve of her jaw and she shivered from the touch and ached to feel his palm against her face again even when she knew it was wrong of her. She didn’t know what bloodline he was from or anything about him other than he could set her on fire with only a few well-chosen words and spoke perfect Russian. Was she so caught up in the masquerade that she was willing to break the law?

“You’re so beautiful,” he husked in a voice roughened by the desire that showed in his dark eyes. “I have so much I want to say to you... will you listen?”

She nodded and stood there, compliant, absorbing how good it felt as he touched her jaw and then brushed his fingers down her throat in a caress so light she shivered from it. Half of her wanted to thank him for dancing with her in the way she had longed for, for looking at her with the heat and hunger she had envied in the other couples, and to tell him that he was right and no one had ever spoken to her the way he had or said such things about her. The other half of her said that she was here on duty not for pleasure and that it was time she remembered that, but it was difficult when every sweep of his fingers, every word he husked and glance he gave her, made her want to kiss him.

He stepped closer to her, so she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze, and slid his arms around her waist. Sophis trembled in his embrace, her hands pressing against his broad hard chest, and stared into his eyes. They were so dark in the moonlight, as black as his horned mask and unruly hair, and so enchanting.

She was stronger than this.

She couldn’t let herself get swept away in the ball like so many vampires did, not when the safety of the attendees was in her hands. If Vivek saw her now, he would laugh at her and mock her, would reiterate the words she had thrown at him this evening about being here as a guard not a guest. She had promised that she would prove herself worthy and show him that she was strong and capable.

Right now she felt weak and afraid, lost in unfamiliar territory. She had longed for a man to sweep her into his arms and look at her with adoration and desire, and the Devil had granted her wish, and now she didn’t know what to do.

“It is wrong of me... there are things I should say first... but I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?” he said thickly in Russian, the words music to her ears and drawing a startling response from her.

She cast aside her duty and slid her hands up to his throat, luring him in.

He lowered his mouth and her gaze fell to it, her breathing quickening as it edged closer to hers. When he was near enough that she could almost taste him, she broke away and ran down the steps to the garden below. A giggle escaped her lips when the man snarled and she kept running, fleeing her duty in order to embrace a single moment of wild freedom. She hitched her dress up with both hands and turned the corner at the bottom of the stone steps, heading along the gravel path below the man and intending to make a break for the maze.

The man vaulted the stone balustrade of the balcony and landed close to her on the gravel. He lunged for her but she evaded him, ducking to one side, and bolted towards the large hedge maze at the end of the path. He pursued her and the thrill that shot through her as his senses locked firmly on her was nothing short of intoxicating.

Sophis turned right on entering the maze. The tall yew hedges blocked out the moonlight and she had to use her senses to guide her through the corridors and lead her safely towards the centre. The man remained a few strides behind her, never close enough to catch her but never too far away. She knew in her heart that he could end the game whenever he wanted and would easily catch her when he’d had enough of chasing her, but it seemed he was enjoying the chase as much as she was.

It thrilled her.

She turned this way and that through the maze, the hem of her satin dress snagging on branches as she turned corners and tried to use her full speed. Her heels slowed her down but she was surprisingly quick in them, driven by the excitement of being hunted by the man and the fantasy of what he would do with her when he finally caught her.

The remaining sensible part of her said that his only reward should be the kiss she had promised.

The rest of her burned with hunger for something more.

She tugged her dress free when it caught on a branch of the yew hedge and gasped when the man grabbed her wrist, pulled her flush against him, and pressed his lips to hers. A split-second later she was free again and running, her lips throbbing from the brief hard kiss, and he was a distant snarl. He had to try harder than that if he wanted a proper kiss. He had to catch her without her being snagged.

Sophis laughed and kept running. The cold air chilled her bare upper arms and her breasts, and her legs where she exposed them so she could run without tripping on her dress. The man growled and a shiver tripped over her flesh, the threat in it heightening her desire and excitement as much as the sense of him hunting her.

The moon was bright as she broke out into the centre of the maze and she slowed to a walk before turning to face the direction she had come from. The tall hedge cast black shadows on the corridors between them and she couldn’t see the man without changing into her true guise. She held her desire to allow her eyes to change at bay, not wanting the man to know which bloodline she was from, and waited. Her senses remained on high alert and she could feel his on her, locked tight on their target. She breathed hard, her bosom pressing against the tight corset of her dress, and backed towards the wide stone bench at the centre of the open circle.

She couldn’t hear him.

Was he coming?

Had she lost him?

The hairs on the back of her neck rose and a shiver swept over her arms and legs.

From the shadows, he emerged. He stalked towards her across the golden gravel, slow and purposeful, his gaze intent on her from behind his black mask, as though she was his prey. His focus on her intensified and her instincts blared in alarm, telling her that she was in danger.

She was, but it wasn’t danger of him hurting her, but rather danger of her losing her mind and surrendering to him and her desire to chase a moment of bliss and seek her own happiness for a change.

He didn’t want to harm her.

He just wanted her.

It was exciting, and wrong of her.

Forbidden.

Sophis didn’t see him coming. One moment he was over ten feet away and the next she was in his arms, pulled flush against the hard planes of his body, bent backwards in his arms as he kissed her with gentle force, stealing all reason from her mind. She clutched his shoulders, drawing the black material of his jacket into her fists, and moaned as he claimed his prize, his kiss turning fierce and dominant, so passionate that she could barely keep up with the rough motion of his lips against hers.

He was breathing hard when he drew back enough that she could see his face. The fire in his dark eyes as he raked them over her, settling them on her neck and then her mouth before bringing them back to meet hers, stole her ability to breathe and she could only stare up at him, lost and waiting, hungry for more.

“We really should talk,” he whispered in Russian. “We shouldn’t do this.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth again and he slowly inched towards her, as though giving her a chance to stop things from happening between them. She knew that she should but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The attraction to him, the need to feel his hands on her flesh and his mouth on hers, was too fierce to ignore.

Sophis craned her neck and claimed his lips. They parted and he slanted his head and delved his tongue into her mouth. She met it with hers, tangling them together and savouring the taste of his kiss. His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers pressing in so hard that she was sure he might bruise her, but she didn’t care. His other hand grasped the nape of her neck, tugging strands of her long brown hair free as he twisted his fingers in them, trapping her in his arms. She moaned and surrendered to him, and his response was to devour her mouth in a way that set her on fire inside, turning her blood to flame and her will to resist to ashes.

He lifted her off the ground, laid her down on the cold stone bench, and covered her body with his, pinning her with it as he roughly kissed her. The hand against the back of her head shifted and he grabbed her hair, tugged her head back and devoured her neck with hard passionate kisses. Sophis couldn’t contain the moan that bubbled up her throat in response. It came out harsh, full of hunger and need. She hadn’t been with a man in so long, not since becoming a vampire, and was eager to know how different it would feel. He was so rough with her, driving her to give up her restraint and become wild like him, to enjoy the moment and the passion burning between them.

She did.

Sophis snaked one arm around the back of his head as he kissed down her neck and across her chest, and curled her hand over the top of his head. She tangled her fingers in the longer lengths of his dark hair and held him to her as she arched into him, eager for more. Every kiss he placed on the curves of her breasts tantalised her, sending hot waves rushing deep into her core. They gathered in the pit of her stomach, heating it through and tightening it, and threatening to steal control. His hands left her side and her head and she gasped as he tugged the corset of her dress down, exposing her breasts to the cold air. His mouth claimed one nipple, tugging the pearl into its moisture, and his hand covered the other. She bit her lip, screwed her eyes shut and moaned as a flood of desire crashed through her. Her moan became a growl of pleasure when he rolled her nipple between his teeth and then gave a teasing bite, sending sparks shooting outwards in all directions. His answering growl rumbled against her and she quivered, her hunger for him bordering on desperation.

She was going to wake up feeling like a fool tomorrow night but she didn’t care. She wanted this and she wanted him, needed this moment of mad pleasure, and she was going to have him.

Her gloves made the task she set her mind to difficult but it didn’t take her long to undo and discard the belt that held his sword and to pop each button on his black jacket. When she reached the last button near his groin and it gave under her fingers, she moved her hand forwards, cupping the hard length in his trousers. He groaned against her breasts and kissed across them, shifting to the other one. She didn’t realise where his hand had gone until it was against the apex of her thighs beneath her layers of skirt, cupping her through her underwear. Her eyes shot wide open and she stared at the moon, dizzy with the feel of him palming her. She swallowed and shuddered, wanting nothing more than to lay on the bench beneath him and let him do as he pleased with her, but driven by her need to touch him in return.

He drew away from her breasts when she started on his white dress shirt and watched her fingers, his black mask obscuring his expression. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or fascinated as his eyes narrowed. When the last of the buttons gave way and the two sides of his shirt fell open to reveal the delicious taut muscles of his torso, she slowed down, filled with a sudden urge to savour the delicacy before her. He groaned and trembled when she smoothed her palms out against his broad chest, the feel of the rock hard muscles beneath her fingers almost too much for her to bear. She forced herself to continue and lightly swept her fingertips over the edges of his pectorals to the pronounced ridges of his abdomen.

“Devil, I love the feel of your gloves on me,” he murmured in Russian, his rough voice music to her ears, sensual and seductive.

Sophis smiled up at him as his eyes met hers. They widened when she let her claws extend and ran them over his chest. He groaned again and bucked against her, driving his hips against the hand that still pressed into her groin. She shivered and bit her lip as the scent of his blood hit her. He stared at her, following her hand as she drew it away from him and brought it to her lips. His pupils dilated and his lips parted when she inhaled the scent of his blood on her claws and gloves, and the desire in his eyes empowered her.

She propped herself up on one elbow and touched his chest again, following close to one of the scratches, tracking the rivulet of blood that had run down his chest towards his abdomen. The droplet ran over the curve of his pectoral and onto the hard slab of his stomach and she glanced up at him to find him watching her, his lips still parted, the beautiful look of anticipation and need on his face too much to ignore. She craned her neck, poked her tongue out, and licked up the length of one of the cuts.

His growl reverberated through her, so low and harsh that it called to her instincts and urged her to feed. He liked it.

He leaned back, kneeling between her parted thighs, and clutched her to his chest as she licked each cut and sucked occasionally to steal a drop of blood. He tasted so good. Strong blood. Older than her.

“Wicked,” he whispered and caught one of her hands, brought it up to his mouth and sucked her fingers.

Sophis licked another cut, feeling every bit as wicked as he had declared her to be, and loving it. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, and frowned when a flicker of familiarity lit up inside her.

Did she know him?

She pulled back to look at his face so she could see if she did, but he didn’t give her the chance. He kissed her again, fierce and hungry, his mouth rough against hers. Their masks knocked together and she wanted to throw hers aside and push his away, wanted them to know each other now before things went too far. He caught her wrist when she reached for his mask, pushed her down on the bench and pinned her arm above her head. He kissed away her desire to reveal who he was and she lost herself again as she sucked on his lower lip and nipped it, drawing a little blood. He groaned and ground against her, his weight shifting to press down on her wrist.