Tempted

  She tried to squirm away, and he stopped her with a heavy hand to the abdomen. “Don’t think for a second I won’t tie you down.”

  Her thighs quivered. Moisture coated them.

  Oh yeah. His woman had some untapped depths. Hands on her skin, he leaned forward to tempt and taste. He played with his tongue, with his fingers, driving her to a series of whimpers until finally enclosing her clit with his mouth.

  She stiffened, her back arching.

  With a low growl, he sucked.

  She cried out, waves rolling under his palm and mouth as she came. He plunged two fingers inside her, throwing her into a second, more intense orgasm.

  God. She was perfect. He gentled her until she quieted. Quick motions had his T-shirt ripped off and his pants hitting the floor. His mate was sprawled on the bed, lazy satisfaction in her dark eyes and a pretty smile on her face.

  His heart thumped hard.

  Her gaze wandered over his body. She gave a sight cough when she reached his cock. “Wow.” Intrigue and wonder filled her eyes, and she sat up to grasp him, her fingers not long enough to touch. Slowly, almost tentatively, she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the tip.

  Fire shot straight to his balls. Jesus.

  “Oh.” Closing her eyes, she sighed and slid her mouth over him.

  The heat from her mouth was phenomenal. Max sucked in air. Then the woman took more of him with a soft hum of appreciation. She swallowed.

  Thunder roared in his ears. Like a rubber band, his control snapped. His hands manacling her arms, he flipped her around to hands and knees. Hands clenching her hips, he drove inside her with one strong thrust.

  She stiffened, then relaxed. “Oh, Max.”

  Her internal walls clamped down on him, sending sparks of fire along his every nerve ending. Pleasure too intense to exist rippled across his cock to his spine. Fast and hard, he pounded into her. Whatever primitive beast lived inside him shot to the surface. A primal need to possess, to completely master her had his fangs dropping low.

  His balls slapped her ass, the sound barely audible over their harsh breathing. Faster. Harder. More. He needed more.

  Angling his body over her, he enclosed her. She shoved back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, a desperate mewling panting out.

  He reached under her, flattening his hand across her upper chest, tugging her back to meet his thrusts. Controlling her. White-hot fire ripped down his spine, lava encasing his balls. Rational thought disappeared. Pure, raw need took over. Feeling the desperate climb building inside her, his free hand found her clit.

  He pinched.

  She cried out, her back bowing, the orgasm whipping through her and tightening her hold on him.

  The ripples clawed his cock with a force that had him seeing red. Instinct had his fangs piercing her neck.

  Blood.

  Sweet, like sunshine, it filled his mouth, filled his soul. He erupted in a release so powerful time stopped. For the briefest of seconds, the entire world narrowed to one small woman. Then it slammed back with a roar of sound.

  He’d never be the same.

  As he collapsed to the side, his heart pounded, his lungs panted, and his legs shook. He yanked the comforter over them and wrapped his arms around Sarah. Tight against her, reality crashed home. He’d mated her.

  “I love you, Milaya.” He tucked her securely into his body where he could keep her safe. Forever.

  “I love you, too,” she mumbled, snuggling her butt closer.

  His cock woke up. “Um, we need to talk.”

  “Later. Sleep now.”

  “No.” He rolled her under him, propping his weight on his elbows. She opened her eyes to glare. Amusement had him fighting a grin. She looked like a grumpy kitten. Then he sobered. “I mated you.”

  The sleep cleared from her eyes. “Huh?” She rubbed her neck where the puncture wound had closed, but the outline—his bite—would always remain. “You bit me.”

  “Yeah.” He shouldn’t be feeling such intense pleasure from that fact.

  She gasped. A tiny frown furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m immortal?”

  “Well, you will be soon. I mean, not immortal completely. We can die by beheading.” Not to mention what the damn virus could do to her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well”—she slid both hands up his arms to clasp his shoulders—“I figured we’d get around to the mating part after the courting and dating. But we’ve done everything else backwards, so what the heck.”

  He shook his head, thinking she didn’t understand. “You’re not mad?”

  “No.” A mischievous smile settled on her kissable lips. “I like the idea of being immortal. It’s very cool. I do love you. But I still want the courtship part.”

  “You’ll get the courtship part.” He’d never understand the woman. But damn, he loved her.

  Her breath caught. “Hey. So, now that we’re mated, will my gift kick in with you? I mean, will I be able to see images from objects you touch?”

  “Probably.” If it made her happy, he’d touch whatever she wanted. “In fact, as your chromosomal pairs alter, you’ll probably feel a bunch of changes.”

  “Wow. So many changes.” Intrigue had her lips bowing in concentration.

  The plan he wanted to hit her with made even more sense now. He hoped she’d agree so he didn’t have to force her to headquarters. Though he’d do what he had to do. “Speaking of changes, I’ve been thinking.”

  “That sounds scary.” Her small hands caressed his shoulders.

  “Yeah. Well, you can’t go back to your teaching job, can you?”

  “No.” The woman had a pretty pout. “Even though the doctor said I’m not crazy, I’m sure the school can’t hire me back. Maybe no school will hire me.”

  Max kept his face bland while elation whipped through him. He certainly wasn’t qualified to do what she did naturally—what she was meant to do—teach. “Well, I happen to know of a teaching job where I live. We’re getting a bunch of animals soon.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “The kids can’t be that bad, Max. Geez.”

  He frowned. “No. Real animals. Shifters. You know, mainly mountain lion shifters, but maybe some wolves.”

  Her hands stilled. “Shifters? Like real fantasy-channel people who shift into animals?”

  “Yeah, and now that some of us are taking mates, there may be vampire kids, too.” They required a qualified teacher. He’d need to okay the plan with Dage, but his friend would agree. They were family, after all. “You’d also teach Janie, who’s human.”

  “Oh.” Sarah’s smile lit up the room. “Where you live sounds like the perfect place for us to date. Count me in.”

  Relief filled him. He’d have hated to kidnap her twice in one week. He rolled her so they could spoon. “I love you, Sarah.”

  “See what a good plan and compromise can do? There’s hope for you yet.” She snuggled into him with a soft sigh. “I love you too, Max.”

  Did you miss the other books in Rebecca’s

  DARK PROTECTORS series?

  Fated

  Marry Me

  Cara Paulsen does not give up easily. A scientist and a single mother, she’s used to fighting for what she wants, keeping a cool head, and doing whatever it takes to protect her daughter Janie. But “whatever it takes” has never before included a shotgun wedding to a dangerous-looking stranger with an attitude problem ...

  Or Else

  Sure, the mysterious Talen says that he’s there to protect Cara and Janie. He also says that he’s a three-hundred-year-old vampire. Of course, the way he touches her, Cara might actually believe he’s had that long to practice ...

  Claimed

  A Daring Rescue

  Emma Paulsen is a geneticist driven by science. But she’s also a psychic, so when a dark, good-hearted vampire frees her from the clutches of the evil Kurjans, she realizes he must be the man who’s been haunting her dreams. But with a virus threatening vampires’ mates, Emma may
discover a whole new meaning of “lovesick” ...

  A Deadly Decision

  As King of the Realm, Dage Kayrs has learned to practice diplomacy. Still, it’s taken three hundred years to find his mate, so he’ll stop at nothing to protect her—even if it means turning his back on his own kind ...

  And don’t miss HUNTED, coming in May—turn the page for a sneak peek!

  “She’s going to kill you,” his old friend muttered.

  Conn Kayrs raised an eyebrow, cutting his eyes to Kellach from across the scarred table. He hadn’t been in Shea’s tavern in a century, yet the tables were the same. Beaten and solid. “She can try.” Damn, he hoped she tried. For no other reason than the excuse it gave him to put his hands on her. Finally. After all this time.

  Kell tipped his ale back, his dark gaze remaining steady on the tavern door. “She’s coming.”

  That she was. The air thickened as if in anticipation of a lightning strike—or a witch’s temper. Conn relaxed in his chair, stretching his long legs to cross at the ankles. His boots caught on worn grooves in the wood. “You might want to make yourself scarce.”

  Kell tied his dark hair back at the nape, his shoulders tensing. “You may need backup.” He glanced at the row of patrons lining the bar on hand-carved wooden stools centuries old. Mostly witches, maybe a couple humans. People who lived on the northern coast of Ireland, happy in the knowledge most of the world didn’t know they existed. “Though we should clear everyone else out.”

  Conn fought a grin. His friend sounded almost ... concerned.

  As a fierce witch and a dangerous warrior, the enforcer for the council was trained in witchcraft and traditional war. Kellach’s main job was to protect the leading council, the Coven Nine. He feared no man. But a woman? Well now, that was another story.

  “Your cousin isn’t that dangerous, Kell.” Though what did Conn know? Moira had been training for a century. Her skill set might be deadly. If so, they needed to get a couple things straight.

  Several folks lining the bar cast wary glances over their shoulders. Even in this day and age, vampires were a scarcity in the north, so Conn kept his fangs hidden. He didn’t want to spook them—although his metallic eyes probably gave him away.

  Watching carefully, he wondered if anyone would challenge him. He’d never battled a witch. They’d been allies of the Realm for centuries, though he often wondered about that. Witches kept their powers shrouded in secrecy. Not even his king knew the full extent of what magic allowed them to create.

  Kell’s lips tightened in his rugged face. “Moira is the seventh sister of the seventh sister. All power. You have no idea what you’re doing, my friend. She told you not to come to Ireland, and you should’ve listened. You shouldn’t be—”

  The door swept open on a gust of wind. Electricity crackled through the room. Moira stepped inside, her green gaze hard on Conn. His heart seized. How did he forget her beauty? Her power? Her tiny size?

  Conn scraped back his chair and stood. “Hello, mate.”

  Her focus remained on him. “Get out.”

  Stools toppled, chairs clattered, and patrons stumbled in a mass exodus. He couldn’t help his grin as the door slammed shut behind her. Even from across the room her scent of lilacs whispered toward him. Tempted him. “Feeling dramatic, Dailtín?”

  “I believe I’ve asked you not to call me a brat.” She stepped into the empty tavern, all grace, all intent. “Kellach, please leave.”

  “Yes Kell. Get the hell out,” Conn said cheerfully, his gaze on his mate. He’d missed those rioting red curls and that translucent skin—almost as much as he’d missed the fire in her eyes and the spirit in her tiny form. Almost. Her lilting voice grabbed him around the throat and squeezed.

  With a muttered, “It’s your funeral,” Kellach stalked outside. The air relaxed as his power dissipated.

  Silence. Alone in the bar, Moira and Conn stared at each other for a moment.

  Finally, she sighed and tugged a hand through her wild curls. “You need to go home, Connlan.”

  He ran his gaze to her toes and back up, truly appreciating the faded jeans and tight white shirt decorated with Celtic knots. The sight of the dainty witch in modern clothing reached deep in his gut and twisted. His woman had been relaxing. The need to take her to the floor nearly had him lunging. “Or what?”

  Fire flashed in her emerald eyes. “Or I’ll destroy you.” Power all but danced on her skin with the threat.

  Damn. That voice, that spirit. His heart leaped to life and his cock jumped to attention. “Think so?”

  She sucked in air, her hands fisting and then relaxing at her sides.

  That’s right sweetheart. Center yourself. He gestured toward Kell’s vacated chair. “Have a seat.”

  “No. You need to leave, Conn. Please.” Determination and a hint of desperation broke through her calm façade.

  He cocked his head to the side, unease tickling his nape. “Did you just say please?” Every instinct he owned flared to life. “What the hell’s going on, Moira?”

  Her eyes widened just enough for him to doubt her intent. “I need time, Conn.”

  “I’ve given you a hundred years.” Why the hell is she trying the innocent approach? “I told you eight months ago I was coming.” He’d meant to fly across the ocean the next day, but war had intruded. Being commander of the Realm’s soldiers often took a heavy toll.

  “I need more. Just a bit, to prepare to, uh—”

  “Prepare for what?”

  The morning after he’d marked her, when her father wanted his head on a spike, he’d tried to make peace. One moonlit night he’d taken her virginity and she’d taken his heart. Fate had made an appearance, forming the Kayrs marking on his palm that he’d transferred to her hip during sex. Even so, he’d signed the treaty promising to leave her be for a century—to train as the Seventh. Time was up.

  “We had a one-night stand and ended up mated. That’s all.” She sighed. “You want to solidify our alliance. But I’m not ready to, um, concentrate on us.”

  He waited.

  She clasped her hands together. “I’m asking for more time. Just a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “No.” Not in a million years. “Try to play me and you’ll regret it, céadsearc.” Sweetheart. He’d learned the endearment the night she sighed it in his ear, her body wrapped around his, her darkening eyes stealing his heart forever.

  “I’m asking you. Go home.”

  Studying her guileless expression, he stepped out from behind the table so nothing separated them but highly charged air. He’d trained as a soldier, the best in the world, and his instincts were finely honed. Drawing on those, drawing on his gut, he lowered his chin. “No.”

  Fiery temper swirled in her belly and it took every ounce of Moira’s control to keep from lighting the jackass on fire. She’d tried to be reasonable with him. A soldier, the best, the only thing he understood was battle strategy and bullets. Fine. “I’ve asked you nicely.”

  He smiled. Slow. Dangerous—a warning from a true predator. “Don’t get me wrong, Dailtín. I like you soft and pleading.”

  His rumbling voice heated the fire already burning in her. Memories of her pleading for his touch, for his claim, escaped the box she usually shut them in. One night. One long, delicious night with him so many years ago. Her nipples peaked along with her anger. Her gaze swept him. Well over six feet, eyes the color of the deepest riverbed—dark and green and too knowing. Thick shoulders, powerful thighs, and his handsome face proved the Creator was a woman. A goddess. Only a goddess would’ve spent time ensuring each sharp hollow and rugged peak somehow combined into lethal masculine beauty.

  She avoided looking at his broad hands. Too many memories of those clever fingers that had brought pleasure ... his leaving had brought pain. He hadn’t wanted to keep her a century ago. An emotional shove down took care of the ding in her heart. He sure as hell wasn’t going to cl
aim her now just because of Realm politics. “I don’t want to hurt you, Connlan.” Her voice softened as she spoke the absolute truth. “But I will.”

  He reached for a band from his pocket and tied back the thick mass of dark hair whispering for her touch. When did he grow it to his shoulders? “Let’s get to it then.” His stance widened, his gaze narrowed. “Show me what you’ve got, baby.”

  She centered all thoughts, her hands opening palms up at her sides. “I hoped you’d be reasonable.” Bullocks. She’d hoped he’d come to get her before now ... before he had to. Because he wanted her. Air began to stir, tempting her nostrils with the scent of gunpowder and sage. Connlan.

  He raised an eyebrow, peering down at her. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” While he phrased it as a question, command tinged each word. “You’re scared ... and I find I don’t like that. At all.” He measured her, his gaze roaming her body and leaving tingles in its wake. “Are you frightened of me?” His brows furrowed.

  “Not even a little bit.” She allowed her voice to quiet to keep from cracking.

  His face smoothed out, a dark eyebrow rising. “There’s someone more dangerous than me?” His full lips quirked and a dimple winked in his left cheek.

  That damn dimple. “No.”

  Not a being existed on earth more dangerous than Connlan Kayrs. He even dressed as a soldier in black cargo pants and a dark long-sleeved shirt, no doubt hiding weapons.

  But she saw no reason to lie to him. “I’m busy right now, Conn. Events are taking place and I need to be involved. I have work to do.”

  “Let me help.”

  Moira shut her eyes. Such an offer—the temptation to accept warred with common sense. With reality. She opened them. “I wish you could.” Regret flushed through her. “We mated a century ago. Another decade won’t matter.” Bitterness tinged her words.

  Conn’s eyes darkened. “It takes a century for a witch to come into power, to study and learn. So I gave you the time. Because you asked nicely.” He took a step forward. “I’m done.”