Reign of the Vampires Page 12

  He placed his hands around her waist, his touch sending goose bumps all over her body. The heat of his skin warmed her through her thin blouse. She placed her hands on his rigid arms. He flexed and lifted her off the floor, then seated her on the dresser.

  Neither of them moved. The need she’d felt for him in his cell, and then again when she had seen him at Neeman’s, was stronger than ever. A part of her deep inside called to him. Her mind screamed at her, reminding her of the plan: come in, bond him, leave.

  They stared at each other for a long time. She took in every inch of his strong face: his roman nose that had been broken at least once, the reddish-brown stubble upon his cheek and chin, the pink softness of his full lips.

  “Bend your neck,” she whispered.

  He bowed until his neck was inches from her face. His broad chest pressed close to her. His hands shook at her waist.

  He was a human and a slave. She couldn't have another incident like Xenock. She had too much at stake. She tried not to let his closeness affect her, but she couldn’t help it. She dipped her head and breathed in the nape of his neck where his hair fell to his shoulders. His scent was like heaven. It was the most desirable thing she’d ever smelled. She couldn’t even begin to describe the texture of it.

  She slid her hands up his arms, feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. Gliding over the collar, she searched for the latch. Mason’s hot fingers pressed into her flesh as she fumbled for the lock. The tension in his body was obvious from the way he tried to hold himself away from her.

  Danika’s head swam as his scent swirled in her brain. Her throat felt like dry ice. The need to taste him mounted. Stop! Not another Xenock! Keep it under control! Clearing her throat, she tried to concentrate on her fingertips. The latch appeared and she inserted the key. She dropped the manacle to the dresser and he sighed. Chafing and scraping marred the skin underneath the collar. Instinctively she reached over and licked at the wounds. His fingers dug into her waist, and her senses caught on fire. She felt every fiber of his shirt, smelled the trickle of sweat that ran down his neck, heard the rapid beat of his heart. Mason’s breathing quickened, and as she pulled away from him, the sweetness of his skin lingered in her mouth. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to have him take her over to his bed and smother her with his body.

  Her fangs broke through and she gazed up at him. Mason watched her, his eyes alight like flames. He leaned close to her ear and smelled the nape of her neck. A burning need blossomed in her stomach and warmth pooled between her thighs. A sudden feeling of possession overtook her, and at that moment she needed to make him hers.

  “Do it. Make me yours.”

  She bit down into his firm, awaiting neck. His hands clenched around her waist and his fingers dug deeper into her skin. A low rumble emitted from his chest. An animalistic, guttural sound that made Danika’s inner bad girl beg for more.

  The first gulp of his blood was liquid fire. It stung her tongue and seared her icy throat as it went down. She almost pulled herself away, but the taste of it exploded inside her, making her want more, need more. The second gulp was just as hot, but now she was ready. It filled her, making the ends of her limbs tingle. Sitting on the dresser with him bent over, she drank from him greedily. Shifting his body, he stood between her parted thighs, spreading them wide. His body pressed around her, crushing her into him. His breathing quickened as every part of their bodies touched. A moan of desire escaped him. His hot, moist breath tickled her shoulder. Moving aside the collar of her blouse, he playfully bit at her skin. The sensation sent her into a frenzy. More. She needed more of him.

  She threw her arms around him, and dug her nails deep into his back. The dresser shook as he slammed his palms onto it, uttering words in a language she’d never heard before. A moment later, a sharp pierce on her neck, and then his mouth was on her skin again; he drank from her, as well.

  She released his neck from her eager mouth as a cry of pleasure escaped her lips. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The fire and ice between them. Her cool skin and icy blood on his warm body and blood like fire. The exchange was enough to throw her over the edge. Her head spun and desire wracked her core. She was paralyzed with pleasure as he crushed her into him and drank from her. The share of blood between Vampires was so intimate that it was only between mates. Aside from William, she’d never given her blood before. She hadn’t known pleasure like this was possible with a human.

  Lights exploded in her eyes and every nerve ending caught fire, and she felt like she was floating. She gasped for breath. Then without warning, his lips were on hers, hot and still dripping with her blood, his need overwhelming. His lips seared hers as he kissed her hard, pulling her to him and holding her close as she wrapped her legs around his waist for support. She’d never wanted another being as much as she wanted him.

  She unbuttoned his vest, throwing it to the floor. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it down his arms, baring his large, hairless chest. She grabbed again at his muscular back.

  Mason wrapped his hands deep into her hair, crushing her into him. He lifted her off the dresser, his hands roaming her body. She trailed her finger over the edge of his tattoo, tracing the raised detailing. His fevered kisses stopped, and he pulled his face away from hers to look into her eyes.

  His eyes burned like flames. She let her fingers drag down, down, down, till they reached his waistband. The tattoo was raised and hard against her fingers, like a flexible plastic under his skin. Breaking away from his gaze, she looked down at his chest. Ancient runes swirled and curved across it. Heat radiated out of them like burning embers. Artwork on his skin, done by a true master.

  “Don’t look at them.”

  “You’re beautiful.” She kissed them lightly. He wound his fingers more tightly in her braid and gently forced her to look at him.

  “Don’t.”

  The force of his words tingled and excited her. He was commanding and for a moment she felt like the slave and he the master. He kissed her on the mouth. His need was still apparent, but he was gentler. She wasn’t the one in control of the situation, for the first time in her life. Fear skimmed over her from being so exposed.

  There was a sharp knock. Mason set her back on the dresser and grabbed his shirt together.

  “What is it?” she called.

  “Are you all right, m’lord?” came Neeman’s voice from the other side.

  “Yes. I’ll be out momentarily.”

  There was silence, as she and Mason stared at each other. He buttoned his shirt with lightning speed, bringing Danika to her senses.

  By all the gods, what had she just done? “I apologize,” she said. “It has been too long since I—”

  “No, I’m sorry. I know you belong to Neeman.” Mason broke her gaze and bent to pick up his vest.

  “Belong to Neeman? What do you mean?”

  “You are his mate, or his intended.” He wouldn’t meet her eye.

  “Who said that?” she snapped.

  His brows furrowed. “I just assumed... I mean, I smelled you on him several days ago, and he was in such a foul mood...”

  “You smelled me? How can you smell me on him?” Something was definitely different about Mason.

  He stood straight, again showing her the air of royalty she’d seen before. “I can’t explain.”

  “I came to the training center to see how you were doing. And he was upset because I would not extend your training time with him. He believes that you’re a danger because you cannot control your rage.”

  “He’s right.”

  “Is he now?”

  “I have something inside, and I don’t control it well. But I would never do anything that would endanger you.” His voice held sincerity.

  “I believe you.” Her fangs retracted, but she still wanted more of him. Thoughts of how out of control she’d become moments before made her stomach tighten. She jumped down from the dresser and push
ed at her hair. “You should rest. I took too much from you, you’ll tire quickly. However, I don’t think you took too much from me, so we should have no problems with you turning.”

  “I won’t turn.”

  “I hope not.” She fixed her disheveled clothes. “I paid quite a bit for you to have to let you go. And I can’t have two fledglings on my hands.” She tried to keep her steps steady. The collar and the key still sat on the dresser. She walked back over and picked them up with a shaky hand. “If I leave this off you tonight, do you promise not to run?”

  “Yes.” He slightly inclined his head.

  “Good night, Mason.”

  “Good night, Lord Danika.”

  Something about the way he spoke to her showed more respect than anyone else she’d ever known. It was something about the tone of his voice, the softness of his speech.

  “This room is yours. It’s already been supplied with clothing and a few toiletries. I can have William get you anything else you might need. The next room over is William’s, and the one after that is mine. If you should need me, that’s where I stay.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  She hated leaving him standing, looking so alone. But tonight was not the night to bring him to the coven family. She had enough to deal with right now with William.

  She stepped into the hall. Neeman looked at her suspiciously and sniffed the air.

  “The bond has begun. Thank you for bringing him. I’ll call you if he needs more training in the future.” She wondered if her braid was mussed and if she should go to her room before returning to the celebration. But she didn’t want to give Neeman time to question her. So she continued her quick stride down the hall to the stairs.

  “Everything went well then?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her voice held a cold edge despite the blood burning inside her.

  She was almost all the way down the stairs when Neeman grabbed her by the arm. “Danika, I—”

  She whirled on him, his touch driving her to the height of anger. Without thinking she gave him a light shove, baring her teeth. Somehow the light shove had more effect on him than it should’ve. What was meant to make him let her loose somehow sent him flying onto the hard stairs. He was up on his feet almost as soon as he’d hit them, his posture ready for defense. He watched her with apprehension. She stared at him, filled with the most overwhelming anger and confusion. Why she would feel so angry with him for putting his hand on her arm? He’d done it hundreds of times before. Her mind raced.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” came William’s voice from the top of the stairs. He moved to her side.

  Danika straightened and tried to calm herself, her eyes never moving from Neeman’s face. “Yes, William, thank you.”

  William outstretched an arm next to her. She glanced at it, then set her hand on it.

  “Perhaps we should take a moment and freshen up before we return to your guests,” he suggested.

  “I believe you are right. Will you go with me, please?”

  William bowed to her. She turned to Neeman, who’d assumed a rigid but less-defensive stance. “I apologize for my outburst, Neeman. I didn’t mean to react in such a forceful way to your inappropriate touching. I’m afraid that tonight’s events have been more taxing on me then I’d imagined.”

  “Taxing,” Neeman said. “Yes... Well... If and when you decide that tonight’s...events were caused by more than mere taxation, give me a call.” He finished with a bow and walked past her and out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  Danika refused to show any signs of embarrassment or anger as he left, though she was displeased with his blatant disrespect. The doors to the celebration opened, and several guests peered out.

  “My lord needs a moment to freshen up. She’ll be with you presently.” William led Danika by the arm down the rest of the stairs and toward the rear of the house. The guests waved and smiled, ducking back into the dining hall.

  William led her under the staircase and around toward a small den. Danika let go of his arm as soon as they entered the room. She crossed the small study, to the bathroom, closed the door behind her, and fell hard to the floor.

  What had she gotten herself into? William a fledgling vampyr, and her his sponsor. Now bonding with Mason. Soon his thoughts and emotions would flow into her, and she didn’t know if she could handle that on top of her own problems. Her bond with William was weak, but even just having his small feelings inside her, along with Mason’s? What had she been thinking? All she’d been thinking was about how good he’d taste in her mouth. To have him hold her the way he had, to taste him once and get it out of her system. The problem was now it was worse. His hot blood flowed within her, warming her and causing her icy skin to take on an almost pink tinge. And the anger, the terrible anger that had arisen within her when Neeman had touched her, what had that been about?

  He was right. Bonding with Mason wasn’t a good idea. And what about that strength? How was it possible that she’d hit Neeman with so little effort? Vampires were strong and fast, but even strength took energy. Yet she’d exerted no more force than that used to brush his hand aside. Neeman was the strongest vampyr she’d ever known. When they’d been together, they used to spar. She’d never bested him, not once.

  Mason’s blood lingered in her mouth. It made her tingle inside to think of him. What had she been thinking, buying him? She wanted to spend the rest of her existence in his arms. Now she would have to face the reality, every day, that they could never be. This ended here and now. It wouldn’t happen again. She refused to lose everything her family had worked for over a human.

  Standing, Danika set her resolve and stared into the mirror. Blood stained her lips. She moved to lick them clean, but stopped herself and wiped at it with her hand instead. Throwing cold water on her face to keep her fangs from bursting through, she focused on her reflection in the mirror. Her braid was mussed up at the base of her neck from where Mason had tangled his hands in it. She undid the braid to the point of messiness and then re-braided it. When she finished, she took one last look at herself, straightened her blouse, and walked out of the bathroom. She would not lose herself over a human.

  * * * *

  What the hell just happened? Mason hadn’t expected her to come through that door. He’d been ready to fight for his life, but instead what he’d gotten was the woman he’d been dreaming of for weeks. When he’d caught her scent he’d lost all control. Control of his emotions, his mouth, and worst of all, his beast. Somehow she’d gotten him to say things that he’d never said to anyone else.

  He’d spent all his years on the run from humans, from Vampires, and from others like him. Never getting attached, never letting himself have feelings. Not that anyone had ever caught his eye before this one. And he’d never let a woman touch him before. Not the way she had. He’d been with women, but he’d never let them touch his runes or his back, let alone see them. But with Danika, all he’d wanted was her touch on his skin. Even now, her blood coursed through his veins, cooling the fires that raged within. Calming and soothing what little soul he had left. How was this happening to him? A Vampire. She was a Vampire.

  It’d been a long time since he’d had Vampire blood inside him. And that hadn’t been by choice. Mason remembered every stroke of her finger as she’d traced the lines and webbing. Stirring him in places he didn’t want to think about. Parts of him that he’d suppressed for the last two hundred years were waking up and taking notice. Even now that part of him wanted to escape from its prison and stretch its wings. But he refused to let it. If it killed him, he was not going to let that part of him hurt anyone ever again.

  The image of her sweet, pale, slender neck pulsing beneath his greedy mouth flashed into view. The way she’d said he was beautiful, and had kissed the runes on his chest, made him believe, for a moment, that she might be the one to accept him as he was, and love him despite himself.

  Mason still held the small
knife that he’d concealed in his boot. He’d intended to use it to kill Garon. Instead, he’d used it to nick her neck and taste her. It’d been so long since he’d had blood in his mouth, the salt and the iron. Mason had stopped feeding his inner beast a century ago. Starving it into submission, refusing to give the fuel it needed to rise. But her scent, and when she’d bitten into him, had been more sensation than anything he had ever experienced. Her lips, her teeth, her mouth on his skin. The beast had won out in the battle, and Mason had tasted her. She was cool to the touch, like cool spring rain on a blistering hot day.

  And that’s what it always was for him inside, a blistering day. He hadn’t counted on what her blood would do for him. Instead of causing his inner beast to take control, her blood had cooled it into submission. The feel of her soft, supple body as it crushed into his overpowered him. The way her thighs had wrapped around his waist. Thoughts of things he’d wanted to do to her in his new satiny blue bed flooded him. His pants tightened around his growing arousal.

  Tension built in his muscles and he tried to stretch but was restricted by the tight shirt. His fingers fumbled with the buttons as he removed it. By the time he’d finished he was panting. Free from the shirt, he stretched his shoulders. His skin groaned, like a rubber band pulled too tight, as he did. His inner beast begged to be freed. Mason clawed at the runes on his chest, and wished once more to be rid of his curse. He growled in frustration and blew out a breath.

  Damn. What was he thinking? He couldn’t let this happen. It couldn’t be. She was a Vampire. The ones who’d stolen from him, killed his mother and now enslaved him. He would not fall for her, no matter what she made him feel. He had to get away, before someone found out what he was. Garon might have lost him in the auction but he was still out there, and a monster like that didn’t just give up.

  He opened the drawer and slid the knife underneath a pair of red silk pajamas. Had Danika had picked them out herself, he wondered, while running his fingers over the soft fabric. Visions of her removing them from his body swirled in his mind and gripped his gut. He swore again and slammed the drawer shut, then threw open the window and let the cool breeze run over his skin in an effort to clear his mind of her. Minutes later, he turned back to the dresser and opened the drawers, looking for something less restrictive to wear.