Sea Panther (Crimson Storm) (12 page)

She met him stroke for stroke. Firm muscles gripped the
length of him. Milked him. The sound of rolling thunder reverberated in his ears.
Blind desire raced through his system and the thrusts grew frantic. Kimberly
kept pace. The rhythm matched the rage of the storm as slick bodies met and
withdrew.

He released her from her bonds. Pressure built. The tempest
intensified. A dizzying sensation overcame Robert, and the lustful vampire
reached for control.

Robert’s musky scent tickled Kimberly’s senses. His mouth
was all over her, gentle and rough, kissing and trailing love bites over
hypersensitive skin. She arched her back to give better access to her breasts.
He laved first one nipple, swirling his tongue, creating a tight bud, then the
other, using lips and teeth to best advantage to drive her to the edge of
anticipation.

She barely had time to register the delicious sensation in
one spot when she’d feel lips and tongue and teeth tease another needy place.

With each draw of his mouth, he thrust deeper, propelling
her higher.

If the pleasure wasn’t so mind blowing, she might be
embarrassed by the mewing sounds escaping her lips. She didn’t even care that
tomorrow she’d be bruised with love bites covering her chest and throat. She’d
known making love with Robert would be special. Though it was much more—a
runaway roller coaster of erotic pleasure.

Robert nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot at her throat.
He sucked hard, and she felt his teeth graze her skin. A sharp stab of
pleasure-pain took her by surprise, and she bucked against him. Good-lord, she
was going to explode.

The initial pulse of Robert’s orgasm slammed into her, and
her body shattered into a zillion pieces. Her soul soared through a star filled
universe to a place of absolute bliss.

The vampire greedily drew Kimberly’s essence to him. Her
body convulsed. The violence of their orgasms rocked Robert, the man, to the
core. Ambrosia pleasured his taste buds. Feminine blood rushed through greedy
veins, sending him higher, over a dark precipice to another place, a world of
light.

When he came back to reality, he felt weak. Kimberly slept
peacefully within his embrace. He swished his tongue over the bite marks on her
neck, using the healing properties in his saliva to repair the torn flesh. He
slid from her warmth and tossed the condom to the side. Not that they needed
the damn thing. Sterile vampires can’t spread human diseases.

Wrapping them both in an afghan, Robert sat on the settee
and held her in his arms, devastated. The vampire and the panther receded to
the shadows; both well-pleased Robert had finally claimed and marked Kimberly.
He supposed it had been inevitable since their first meeting on the street in
Cape May. She, destined to be his mate. He, to ruin her life.

A hard truth for a once honorable man to swallow.

He brushed her hair with a gentle kiss. The scent of green
apples would always remind him of Kimberly, long after she left him. He
couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. Of never experiencing that
moment of light again.

If he could keep her, how would he explain the monsters
lurking within him? How could he explain the evil he had forced on her?

The lass would be fine. He had to believe that. One feeding
did not a vampire shifter make. Though, what would she think of him when she
recalled the feel of fangs piercing her skin? Her life essence rushing away?
What would she think when she realized what he was and what the vampire within
him had done to her?

Robert held her and waited for the fury of the storm to
pass. The fury in his black heart would never leave him.

The sailboat gently swayed at anchor. He waited for the
recriminations to begin. He waited for the disgust and hatred to mar her
precious features. He waited to lose his love.

R
obert embraced
Kimberly and willed her to forgive him. If only he had such power.

She opened sultry eyes. “Hello, sexy. You made my toes
curl.”

The satisfied expression glowing on her face left him
breathless. Relief washed over him. She was unaware of the unconscionable act
he’d committed against her. He hugged her, unable to let go, though guilt
tainted the pleasure.

Robert smiled, not wanting her to sense his regret. “Ah, my
love, you are a marvel.”

She pinned him with a melted chocolate gaze. “What made you
change your mind?”

“About what?”

“Making love.”

How to answer? “I couldn’t resist you.”

Kimberly blushed. When he released her, she leaned back
against the settee cushions. “What shall we do next?”

She comically wiggled her eyebrows like Groucho Marx, making
him laugh. She was such a miracle. And he—a devil.

He swung his feet onto the floor. “A shower for me.”

Too bad
Night Thrill
had a tiny head. Otherwise, he’d
invite her to join him and they could pretend they were making love under a
waterfall. He had better forget that pleasurable thought though. He couldn’t
risk another round of lovemaking until he had better control over the vampire.
He would not take her blood again.

“Do you want to go first?” he asked.

She dragged the afghan over herself. “Go ahead. I plan to
lie here for a while and bask in the afterglow.”

Robert stood, took a couple of steps and his vision blurred.
His world spun.
Bloody hell
. He attempted another step, staggered, and
almost fell. He leaned against the galley counter, gasping for breath.

“What’s wrong?” Kimberly tossed the blanket aside and jumped
to his aid.

“I dinnae ken.”

“Here, let me help you.” She reached for an arm. “You’re as
white as the sails.”

He held her off, stepped away, stumbled and almost fell
again. He grabbed for the counter, a handhold, and knocked over a wineglass.
The flute shattered. A shard pierced a finger, and blood oozed from a stinging
cut. He gaped at the blood in disbelief as it continued to flow and drip onto
the floor unchecked.

What was happening to him? The bleeding should have stopped
immediately.

Kimberly grabbed the injured finger, placed it into her
mouth, and swirled her tongue around the cut. The sensation jarred him. He
yanked his finger from her mouth. The bleeding stopped.

“See, all better,” she said.

Robert stared at his hand in horror. What had she done? He
took a troubled breath. Thank God, there hadn’t been enough blood to do her any
real harm. He had to believe that. He forced himself to breathe evenly.

Kimberly’s worried gaze locked on him. “Maybe you should lie
down for a while. You look a bit green around the gills.”

“Aye.” He took a step and staggered again.

She placed his arm around her shoulder, supported some of
his weight, and helped him to the cabin, where he collapsed onto the bunk.

“Do you think you’re going to be all right?”

He nodded. The simple movement made him nauseous. He
motioned to the door with his eyes, begging her to leave him to the weakness.

Kimberly’s gaze followed his. “Um. Yeah.” She moved to the
doorway. “Call me if you need anything.” She stood in the portal, a furrow in
her brow, staring at him.

“I will be fine. Just need to rest.” He managed to get the
words out through chattering teeth.

“Sure.” She stayed for a minute longer, worrying her bottom
lip, looking skeptical. Then she left the cabin, and the door closed softly.

Robert didn’t have the strength to get off the bed, never
mind try to lift the lid and crawl into the soil that would help heal whatever
damn affliction had overcome him.

A bloody disaster. How was he to protect Kimberly?

* * *

Two hours passed. Robert’s condition deteriorated. Kimberly
sat on the edge of the bunk and placed a cool, damp cloth on his fevered brow.

He opened his glazed eyes and clutched at the fabric of her
blouse. “Promise me something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Dinnae radio anyone or phone anyone on your cell. The
authorities might intercept the call.”

“But you’re ill. Let me call Jagger or Colin or your
sister.”

“Nae. There is too great a risk.”

Kimberly chewed on the corner of her lip. She didn’t want to
agree.

“Promise me…” His grip on her tightened. “You will not make
any calls.”

“All right.” She reluctantly gave in.

Eyes closed, he eased against the pillows. Kimberly watched
him until his breathing evened, and he slept.

As she straightened the area around the bunk, she noticed an
old wooden steamer trunk bolted to the wall. The lock hung open. She thought to
put his discarded clothing in the chest, but when she opened the lid, she found
the trunk already full. A large tartan lay on top. Curiosity took hold. She
couldn’t stop from rummaging through the contents. Beneath the wool plaid were
the swords from Robert’s cabin on
Sea Panther
and a set of antique
pistols. Beneath those, men’s period clothing.

What the hell? She was no expert, but could hazard a guess
the garments were from the early eighteenth century. Delving deeper into the
chest, she spotted a ratty black cloth.

Kimberly sucked in a breath at the sight of the grinning
skull peering back from the lower left side of the fabric. A Highland claymore
was drawn, complete with down-sloping quillons, blade pointed upward to the
left from the bottom right, as if it were about to be brought down upon the
skull.

She hastened a glance at Robert. He slept soundly.

Returning attention to the contents of the chest, a bit of
red fabric caught her eye. She pulled out what looked to be a solid red banner
of sorts along with what she presumed might be a well-worn British flag. That,
too, had to be very old.

How odd. Why would Robert have all this stuff? Well, he did
have a fondness for history. Maybe he belonged to an historical reenactment
group and this gear made up his costume and props.

She carefully replaced the items as they’d been, folded
Robert’s clothing, and laid the bundle on top of the chest then left the small
cabin.

Kimberly sat on the settee and shuffled the deck of cards.
What had she heard at the
Rusty Scupper
that day that now seemed like an
eternity ago? One of the salty old bar rats had accused Robert of being a
pirate. Of course, that was absurd in this day and age. There must be a good
reason why he had all that old stuff.

There had been problems over the last couple of years with
modern-day pirates off the coast of Somalia. No way could Robert have anything
to do with them. How ridiculous for anyone to think him a pirate.

Kimberly played an umpteenth game of Solitaire when Robert
cried out.

She found him thrashing about on the bunk. His forehead
burned hot with fever. In his delirium, his garbled words were difficult to
understand and definitely not English. She detected a few French words
spattered among another foreign language, the sound guttural. Gaelic?

She tried to calm him, but he lashed out, striking her in
the chin with a flailing arm.

“Ouch.” She moved her jaw from side to side. “Shit, that
hurt.”

His eyes flew open. Wild-eyed, he tried to rise from the
bunk. Lacking the strength, he fell back to sprawl across the mattress.

“Man the sails. Laroux rides the waves,” he bellowed in
English. “Hoist the Jolly Roger.”

Kimberly froze. Jolly Roger? What on earth?

“The red flag flies. The bastard will grant nae quarter.”
His eyes closed and his head tossed from side to side. “Have to outrun them or
fight to the death.”

Robert mumbled something else unintelligible before
quieting. Then he released a loud snore as if the incident never happened.

Kimberly inhaled a deep breath, allowing her heart to slow
to a normal rate. With the episode past, Robert slept peacefully. She laid a
moist cloth on his brow and glanced at the trunk. Pirates? Was it possible?
Could the rumors somehow be true?

Insane idea
.

No. More than likely, he relived a part once played as an
historical reenacter. Nightmares brought on by fever. Nothing more.

After two more days of dealing with Robert’s delirium,
Kimberly was ready to break the promise and call for help. She couldn’t wait
much longer. Too dangerous. She didn’t know what effect the high temperature
had on his blood disease or whether he had missed taking medicine. The thought
he could die was more than she could endure. As with her father, Robert’s death
would be her fault.

Kimberly sat on the edge of the bunk for the longest time
staring at him and contemplating the choices. Use the boat’s radio to call the
coastguard or use her cell phone to call 911. She had no way to get in contact
with Robert’s friends. He’d never provided their numbers. And his cell was
password protected. She shook her head.
Night Thrill
had been at anchor
in this cove for several days. Why hadn’t one of his friends tried to contact
them? Weren’t they worried? Didn’t they wonder where they were?

The sailboat was moored close enough to shore to get four
bars on the cell. She’d call 911. Deciding to wait no longer, she gripped the
phone, ready to dial.

Robert’s weakened hand tugged on her arm. “Nae.” His voice
was hoarse from lack of use, and he made a chuffing sound deep in his throat.
“You promised.”

“Please, Robert. You’re very ill. I need to call for help.”

“Nae. Feel better. You must only call the authorities if
you
are in danger.” He made an effort to sit, and she plumped the pillows behind
his back. “Bring me a bag of blood from the refrigerator.”

When she returned with the plastic container, he took it and
slumped against the pillows. Smudges darkened the skin under his eyes. The rest
of his face appeared sallow.

“I need more sleep.” He grasped her wrist. “Promise me. You
will not call anyone while I rest.”

She chewed on her lip, unsure, not wanting to agree.

“Promise me.” His eyes held a fierce command.

“All right. Damn you.” She tugged her arm free and placed
the wrist on his forehead. His temperature had gone down slightly. “How do I
give you the blood?”

“I will take care of it. Just leave me for a while.”

“Are you sure? You’re still terribly weak.”

“I will manage. Please, Kimberly, allow me some privacy to
care for my personal needs.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Of course, how crass of me.”

She turned away, but before leaving, she glanced back and
frowned. His eyes remained glassy.

Robert ripped open the thick plastic bag with sharp fangs
and greedily gulped the contents. Rich nutrients coursed through his system,
repairing capillaries and collapsed veins. Tight fists uncurled. Circulating
blood caused the fingers to tingle as sensation returned to his limbs. He
inhaled several deep breaths and willed strength into his debilitated body. He
tried to move his legs, but mobility came slower than he would have liked.
Finally, after several attempts, he managed to slide off the bed, shuffle the
few feet to the closed door, and twist the lock.

Robert gripped the handrail and leaned his forehead against
the wood until the shakes subsided. Then he lunged back toward the bed. He used
the wall for support while he gasped for breath. When the weakness passed, he
opened the top of the bunk to reveal his sanctuary. He climbed in, lay within
the fertile soil, and pulled some of the dark earth over his chest. With a
pained thought, the lid shut.

Darkness engulfed him. The feel of rich dirt against flesh
should have been comforting. Instead, frustration gnawed at his insides. The
fact Kimberly cared for him, rather than him keeping her safe, irked Robert and
made him want to climb out of his skin.

The healing properties of the earth would help cure him, but
days of deep slumber would be required before he regained full power. During
that time of helplessness, he’d have to trust Kimberly to honor her promise and
pray she remained safe.

* * *

Kimberly sat with Robert in the cockpit of
Night Thrill
.
Stars glittered in the midnight sky. They had been through a rough few days,
but he seemed fully recovered from whatever bug had made him sick. Now they
sailed out to sea to make up for lost time.

He skimmed his knuckles along her bruised jaw. “I am sorry.”

“You didn’t hit me on purpose.”

“Nae, but I hate to see the damage I caused.”

“It’s merely a bruise. It doesn’t hurt.”

He stroked her hair. “You did not have much of a New Year
celebration, did you?”

“I’ll celebrate after I’ve gone back to New Jersey and
cleared my name.”

“You do realize it will be a while before you can do that.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She sighed heavily.

Robert gave a self-deprecating smile. “Was it that bad
taking care of me?”

“I didn’t mean… It’s just...”

“Hush. I ken this is not easy for you.”

“I’ll survive.” She would. Her problems seemed minor
compared to the illness he faced. He could have fallen and died. The mere
thought gave her a nauseous-queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Robert stood and pulled her to her feet. “Why dinnae you lie
down, take a nap, and allow me to watch over you? I will keep us on a steady
course.”

Her muscles ached from exertion, but she didn’t want him to
know what a hefty toll the past few days had cost. If she didn’t get some rest,
she’d probably collapse, and he’d know. She could hardly hold her eyes open.

“Okay. Wake me if you need me.”

“I will.”

A few hours later, Kimberly attained a semiconscious state.
Something was wrong. An urgent need to wake tried to get through, but her mind
had become encumbered beneath layers of sticky cobwebs. She mentally tore at
the silky threads. Little by little, the haze cleared, and she sat up and
glanced around.