The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (23 page)

The rich
liquid, warm and peppery, filled her mouth, ran down her throat and
hot into her belly. The sensation had her interrupt the blood flow,
letting it gather in her mouth as she waited for stomach cramps,
which thankfully never came.

Marcus’s rock
hard shaft took her now with a smooth rhythm of his pelvis.

The
unforgettable feeling overwhelmed her that they were made for each
other.

This man, she
knew with utter certainty, was her destiny.

Anais gave
herself up to the slow slide of flesh on slick flesh, the heady
scent of arousal, the sound of her gasps and his moans as they
journeyed higher.

He loved every
part of her flesh with his hands, his mouth, with his whole
body.

Dark eyes
burned into hers as he clasped her hands, linked their fingers and
pressed them into the mattress either side of her head.

"I love you,
Anais. Never doubt it. You are my heart, my soul, my life."

The orgasm that
gripped her was impossible to cope with in its intensity.

He swallowed
her cries of completion as he groaned and went utterly still as his
seed flooded her womb, with one final thrust, he laid his forehead
on hers, their hearts thundering as one.

Gentle tears
trickled into her hairline.

Marcus lapped
up the evidence of her overwrought emotions and Anais opened her
heart and let him in.

"I love you,
darlin’," she said. Her perfect imitation of his Scottish accent
making him smile.

"I don’t have a
high girly voice like that," he teased. Then those deep blue eyes
went serious as they searched hers as he spoke from the heart, "I
know you’re scared about the future. I promise everything is going
to be all right. Trust me."

Her mouth
trembled even as courage entered her eyes.

"I trust you
with my life."

Anais awoke to find the
bedroom in darkness.

After sleeping
and feeding for two days she felt like a new woman, which indeed
she was.

She was alone
in their big bed.

Her hand
drifted across the crisp cotton sheets to find the indent of
Marcus's head on the pillow.

With a wide
yawn, she sat and realised Marcus was sitting in a chair in the
corner of the room, unashamedly naked, simply watching her in the
silvery light of the moon.

The fact he'd
been watching her while she slept, should have creeped her out.

Not so long ago
it would have done just that.

Instead, Anais
held out her hand.

"Come here,"
she demanded in a tone that made his gorgeous mouth twitch.

He didn't move
and his eyes never left her face.

"He has
feelings for you."

Marcus's voice
held no inflection.

However, Anais
knew who he referred to since she'd picked up the jealousy vibe. It
was bad of her, but she couldn’t help it, a little thrill of sheer
lust curled low in her belly. Marcus was so attentive these days
and she was becoming used to him obeying her every need, her every
whim.

With a sigh,
she realised he wasn’t coming back to bed until she’d answered
him.

So she relaxed
back against a waterfall of soft down pillows.

"Ezekiel does
have feelings for me. Just not the feelings you’re torturing
yourself with."

"He’s in love,"
he hissed.

"He is," Anais
admitted and bit down hard on her bottom lip when he growled, a low
rumble deep in his chest, which caused the abused chandelier
hanging from the ceiling to shudder and shake.

"How fucking
dare
he?" Marcus leapt to his feet.

"But not with
me
," she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Marcus stood
utterly still in the moonlight.

"With whom?" he
demanded to know.

Anais tsked
tsked and shook her head.

"That is none
of your business and certainly none of mine."

Marcus launched
himself on the bed and pinned her beneath him.

"Anais, I am
your bonded mate. You must obey me."

She pouted.

"We need to
talk about the love, honour and obey part of the deal. I will not
agree to obey you. Ever."

He went utterly
still.

His eyes pinned
on hers with something like disbelief.

"But the
marriage vows are sacred, darlin’."

He sat up,
switched on the bedside light to stare deep into her eyes, and read
the terrible truth.

If she’d
slapped him he’d have been less stunned.

It wasn’t often
she saw him at a loss for words and Anais made the most of it.

"This is the
twenty-first century. Time to get with the programme, big boy.
Either obey is removed or no marriage."

Blink,
blink.

"But... what
will my father say?"

She shrugged,
gave him big eyes.

"Although I
have the greatest respect for him, I’m not marrying your father and
I don’t give a badger’s ass what he says."

He took a deep
inhale and exhale.

"Where on earth
did you pick up that phrase?"

"Ian," Anais
shot back with a belligerent jerk of the chin, dropping the Centuri
Commander in deep excrement without a qualm.

Why the fact his woman
was being a very naughty girl turned him on Marcus had no idea.

But those
flashing eyes, the insolent raise of her eyebrow and the challenge
of that chin aroused him painfully fast.

Her gaze didn’t
miss the movement between his legs and she studied his growing
erection with narrowed eyes as the pink tip of her tongue explored
her top lip.

His fingertips
reached out to touch the back of her hand.

Dark eyes held
his as he stroked the soft, silky skin and he watched her pupils
dilate with arousal.

In a flash he'd
pinned her under him.

"I yearn for
you, my wee darlin’," he told her and tilted his pelvis once,
twice.

Her eyebrow
twitched.

"These days we
call it a boner or a stiffy."

She was
deliberately trying to annoy him.

That fact plus
the disrespect in her tone made his hand itch to spank her.

His vampyre’s
hackles rose.

"What happened
to the sweet, shy and retiring Anais I used to know and love?"
Marcus said in a smooth tone that should have warned her she was
jerking his chain.

Anais rolled
out from under him, rose on her hands and knees.

Wearing a scrap
of ivory silk that purported to be baby doll pyjamas with matching
tiny panties, Marcus received a stunning view of her breasts as
they swayed and the nipples beaded as she leaned forward.

Anais went nose
to nose with him and studied his mouth for the longest moment,
before her eyes met his.

Her skin was
soft and smooth and flawless. Her high cheekbones were flushed and
those full lips were moist. The scent of her shampoo, warm clean
woman, and her arousal made his mouth water and his fangs drop from
his gums.

The fact she
was stunningly unafraid of his emerging vampyre aroused him even
further, although her eyes went like saucers as she studied his
bulging erection, an erection that went thick and long and hard as
stone.

Those dark eyes
rose to his as she wound slim arms around his neck and pressed her
soft body from shoulder to hip against his.

"Well, hello,
big boy. I wondered when you were coming out to play," she crooned,
sounding like Mata Hari.

She nailed her
fate when her silk clad pelvis rubbed insolently against his
arousal once, twice and a third time.

The fact she
truly believed she was in the driving seat in their relationship,
that she pulled his strings, led him by the dick, insulted his
vampyre’s bone deep sense of machismo.

Marcus tried to
reason with him, but it was half-hearted at best, since he had a
certain amount of sympathy for the beast. God knew he hadn’t been
the same since he’d met Anais.

The time had
come to take back control from his mate.

Through slitted
eyes he watched her kneel and bring her hands through her hair,
stretch her arms above her head as she wiggled her hips and those
big dark eyes taunted him, dared him to take her.

His heightened
sense of awareness of her knew her vampyre was sitting back, quite
content, to enjoy the show.

He leapt.

Anais was on her back
and had no idea how it had happened.

The crush of
his mouth on hers, the way his tongue invaded, feasted, took
without care, without pity, shook her to the core. Not by the
bruising force, but by the emotion that had exploded from him
without any warning.

A belated sense
of self-preservation kicked in.

Anais
immediately surrendered.

As soon as she
did, he drew back.

The way he was
trembling told her he was fighting a losing battle for control.

All the while
her heart was hammering in her throat as she tried to catch a
single breath.

Agitated now,
her vampyre warned her to take care.

Marcus rose and
stood next to the bed, a magnificent specimen of masculine beauty,
and her throat went bone dry.

"Stand up."

She did,
knowing that while his voice was nothing more than a low growl, his
mood was volatile and unpredictable.

A heady
cocktail of excitement and fear skittered up her spine.

The antipathy
pulsing off him in waves seemed to grow as she stood utterly still,
meeting his narrow-eyed stare with one of her own.

Her chin lifted
fractionally and that huge body tensed.

"Marcus..."

"Do not speak,"
he roared.

She could scent
his arousal as he slowly stalked around her until he pressed up
against her back. His hard arousal jerking against the base of her
spine had her lean back.

His strong hand
found her throat and intuition told her he needed something from
her.

But what?

Under the
strong fingers pressing against the flesh of her neck, her pulse
began to thud under his thumb.

This time she
didn’t give in, but her gut twisted.

The sound from
her throat as he ripped her clothes from her body was not a moan
but a whimper.

He lifted
her.

Fast and
furious he had her face down, her torso bent over the edge of the
bed.

And his control
snapped and just like that, hers snapped, too, as her vampyre rose
to meet his in the physical manifestation of love’s brutality.

The flat of his
hand between her shoulder blades held her fast as he kicked her
legs wide apart.

Her womb
clutched again and again as arousal wept.

He spanked her
so thoroughly her ass burned and she sobbed, burying her scorching
face into the duvet.

Then she was
flipped onto her back.

He gripped her
hips pulling her toward him as he settled her legs over his
shoulders.

Eyes the color
of flaming claret burned into hers and she saw dark needs filled
with absolute desperation.

Showing no
mercy he drove into her up to the hilt.

And pounded
into her again and again.

It was too
much.

He
overstretched her, but it wasn’t pain that had her panicking as her
hands fisted the comforter desperate to find an anchor.

She was losing
herself as his fingers expertly stroked her and her heart went
wild.

He commanded
her.

Her body.

Her very
soul.

Their breaths
were shallow gasps as their skin went damp and slick.

Hot, the
friction was too hot as the scent of sex emptied her mind until all
Anais could do was feel as he pistoned into her harder, faster,
cursing her even as he told her over and over again that he loved
her.

Their eyes met
once before she flew so fast over the edge her world went dark and
her whole body bowed too tight.

Her scream of
completion ended on a long wail and she was aware of his big body
trembling, convulsing before he collapsed on top of her.

The realisation hit
Anais that it was the first time they’d made love without him
taking her vein.

And Marcus was
still hard inside her, his face shuddering into her neck as his big
hands explored every single inch of her body. He was muttering
words she couldn’t understand. Warm fluid mingled with perspiration
on her neck, alerting her that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He was shaking
now, taking deep gasping breaths and her own breath hitched when
she realised he was... weeping?

"Marcus, what
is it?"

She pushed.

She shoved.

Until finally,
she managed to wriggle free as he slid from her body.

Kneeling over
him, her fingers brushed his black hair, soft as silk, from his
forehead.

"What on earth
is the matter?"

He raised his
head and fierce blue eyes, filled with tears of emotions he could
no longer contain met hers.

"Don’t you
ever
do that to me again."

Bewildered and
devastated by his obvious distress, Anais simply held out her
arms.

With his head
buried in her lap, he wrapped his arms around her waist and clung
to her like a man going down for the very last time.

"What did I
do?" she whispered, absolutely distraught.

He took another
shuddering breath before he rose to sit on the edge of the bed.

Pressing his
fingertips hard into his eyelids, his voice was hoarse,

"Christ. Jesus.
God. I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead.” He gave
another violent shudder that made her frown. "In my mind I heard
you scream. All I felt in my heart was your utter terror. And then
nothing but... darkness. Until I saw you with my own eyes, my
heart, my soul, believed you were gone."