He listened to her breathe. Soft. Gentle. Like her voice. That melodic voice seemed to sink right into his bones to claim him. He loved her courage. He really loved that they shared a passion for old things. Especially wooden carved carousel horses. They had begun his emergence into the world of humans. Once he had done so, he'd never abandoned them. He liked living among them. He liked many of them and had formed odd, interesting friendships--he could pretend to feel by using the human emotions surrounding him. And then as more time passed, he couldn't even do that, feel through memories, his own or those of the humans around him. He felt nothing--a void where his heart and soul should have been.
Once more he pressed little kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth, tracing every detail with the tip of his tongue. Tasting her. Savoring her. She didn't turn away, but instead lifted her head just a little toward him. An offering. The sensation sweeping through his body shook him. The way his heart jerked in his chest at that small gesture she made shocked him. She'd already taken him over, just that fast. She owned him. Tariq. A Carpathian hunter. She owned him.
He wanted to go in to see the child. He liked children. He had always been drawn to their innocence and wonder. Lourdes would be his, just as she was Charlotte's. Already the four children he'd rescued were "his." He knew they all had psychic gifts, even young Danny, the teenage boy, so brave that he knowingly challenged vampires in an effort to get his sisters to safety. They were his. He hoped Charlotte would come to think of them as hers as well.
He pressed more kisses along her chin and then nibbled. She murmured and ducked her chin down, her mouth moving against his. His belly did a slow roll and his cock jerked hard.
"Tariq." She murmured his name softly. "Can't you sleep?" She didn't open her eyes, but her lips caressed his.
"I'm savoring every moment with you. Committing it to memory. The start of us. The beginning. I do not want to miss one single second with you."
Her lips, against his, curved into a smile. Her tongue teased along the seam of his. "Silly man. If it's the beginning of us, then we have a long time ahead to savor. Go to sleep. Morning is coming and Lourdes will wake up and need me. You'll be too sleepy and worn-out to get up to meet her."
She is exhausted as well. She will sleep in. He answered her mind to mind. Intimately. His voice caressed the walls of her mind. Stroking. Conveying more than words. She would feel his hunger for her. Hunger in all forms. He wanted that. Wanted to share with her just how much his need of her was. Just how much his passion for her was. The lust rising in him. The craving for her blood. She had to know when she woke up and the fog was gone, he would never move on or abandon her. He wanted to give her that knowledge. I belong to you. I was born just for you.
He took her mouth, one hand cupping her jaw, holding her still for his invasion. He loved the taste of her and could never get enough. He kissed her over and over. So many times, and yet that wasn't enough. When he lifted his head, she pressed one hand to his chest, pushing him down to the satin sheets while she rose up above him.
He felt the impact of her vividly colored eyes. Her gaze roamed over his face, and he was more than pleased to see it held a hint of possession and more than a little lust.
"You need someone to watch over you, Tariq."
That simple statement shook him. He watched over everyone. She'd done this before. With Fridrick in the garage. She'd tried to protect him. He couldn't remember that ever happening. He'd lost most memories of his family. They hadn't been with him long enough to leave many. Mostly the Carpathian community had raised him. The raising had consisted mainly of training him. His most treasured memory had been watching his father carve wood into beautiful things for his mother. He used his hands, not his mind, to make things. Although he'd been ridiculed by some of his peers, Tariq had chosen to do the same thing.
Charlotte kissed his jaw and then his throat. He wasn't certain his heart could take the way she moved her body over his. She straddled him, pressing her hot core into his flesh, branding him with scorching heat as she kissed his chest. Her tongue licked over the spot where he'd drawn the line, opening his veins for her.
Do you want more, sielamet? I belong to you. If you hunger, I provide. He couldn't stop himself; he slid one hand between her lips and his chest, his fingernail lengthening, sharpening, so that he could give her his very essence.
The little beads welled up. Tempting. Enticing her with his scent. She had to feel his hunger--it was there in his mind when he spoke to her. His need of her. His want. He craved her, and he wanted her to sip from him. To take enough for an exchange.
She licked at the ruby drops, her eyes on his, and his body reacted. She was the epitome of a beautiful, sensuous creature. She licked again and then deliberately latched onto him with her mouth. Sucking. Trying to draw out more. All the while her gaze stayed on his. He knew the true meaning of sexy just watching her. Her hips moved on him, a slide of heat and fire that threatened his control, but when he caught her hips to settle her over the straining weight of his cock, she refused to allow it. She reprimanded him with her eyes, and he immediately forced his hands to stop, to just curl into her hips and wait to see what she wanted. When she'd taken enough from him for a second exchange, he slipped his hand between her mouth and his chest, closing the laceration as he did so.
She licked over the line several times and then kissed him there. Her mouth settled over his nipple, teeth tugging gently. He felt that fire shoot an arrow straight to his cock. He reached down to settle his fist around the thick spike. His need for her was brutal now, but he refused to take the control away from her. He wanted to see what she would do, what she had in mind.
Her kisses followed the path of each muscle in his abdomen as she slid down his body, right past where he wanted her to settle. Instead, she wedged her body between his legs, her mouth finding his belly button and then nipping at the skin just below it.
His breath left his lungs in a rush when her breath was on the head of his cock. Warm. Heated. Such a sensation he couldn't have ever imagined. She licked as he held himself tight in his fist. Licked at the drops leaking there, licked all around the top of the sensitive crown. Licked under it, hitting a spot that nearly took the top of his head off the pleasure was so great.
"Relax, Tariq. Let me take care of you for a change. You're so tense." The admonishment was whispered against his cock, her tongue and lips sliding over and around the large, velvety head.
One finger tugged at his hand and he instantly got the hint. She didn't want his help. He let go and her fingers curled around his shaft, low, toward the very base. At the same time, her mouth engulfed him. He nearly came off the bed. Hot. Tight. She drew him deep, her tongue lashing and curling around him. Stroking. Caressing. Massaging. Her other hand cupped his sac, rolling gently, and then her tongue was there.
She never took her gaze from his. Watching her added to his pleasure. She loved what she was doing. He knew it was a gift. He felt that in his mind, the way she relished giving him pleasure, taking care of him, taking the tension from him. Her mouth went back to working his cock and he found himself laboring just to breathe.
He'd studied sex. He'd had centuries to research the subject, every possible position and way to pleasure a partner or have her pleasure him. He'd gotten into the mind of men and women just to experience the sensation, but over the centuries, he'd forgotten the memory of the actual feeling. Now he knew this was a thousand times more potent. Already his balls were drawing up tight, his seed boiling and ready to erupt like the most violent of volcanoes. He loved what she was doing, but he wanted to be inside of her.
"Enough," he said softly. "Crawl up my body. I want you right now."
He watched her eyes as he gave the order. The softness there. The way she reluctantly slid her mouth one more time over him, taking him deep, holding him there while her tongue did amazing things to him, and then slid back off. She kissed the broad head and slowly crawled up his body, a sensual, sinf
ul creature, craving, hungering just as deeply for him as he did for her.
He caught her hips and lifted them. "Fist my cock."
She obeyed him, just as he knew she would. She liked pleasing him, and she wanted him in her as much as he wanted to be there. Slowly, he slid her body down over his, so that he filled her sheath. She was so tight. So hot. Going slow was an exquisite torture because her inner muscles gave way reluctantly to his invasion, making him feel as if he might not actually make it inside her.
All the while he watched her face, needing to see her expression. The absolute pleasure, the curve of her mouth, the way the tip of her tongue teased at her lower lip. Her breasts swayed, drawing his attention, and all at once, along with the craving for a slow burn, he wanted her blood. He needed it.
"Ride me slow, Charlotte. Move up and down like you were on a carousel horse. Slowly. Very slowly."
He caught a handful of her hair and drew her down toward him. His mouth settled on her breast, suckling hard, teeth and mouth leaving marks. His marks. His brand. She did as he ordered, lifting her body to the very head of his cock and then slowly beginning the descent. Each time she did it, he felt that same exquisite torture of tightness, her silky sheath strangling him, the friction incredible.
His mouth wandered back up to the swell of her breast and he kissed along that tempting curve. Very deliberately, his eyes holding hers, he let his teeth lengthen and opened his mouth, just enough to reveal the twin, sharp daggers. He bit down hard and she climaxed, her body instantly clamping down on his, milking him with such strength there was no resisting her.
He took her blood, using the rhythm of the pulsing of their bodies while she cradled his head to her. Over and over, their orgasms raged, refusing to let up while he took her blood for the second exchange. It was hot. It was sexy. It was the most sinful, wonderful, perfect moment he had experienced.
When he finally forced himself to stop, she slumped down over him, her body still rippling around his. The strong quakes began to ease and he soothed her with his hands, stroking her back and her firm bottom. Holding her in his arms. Murmuring to her in his language. Exhausted, she fell asleep on him, just like that, his cock still buried deep, her legs straddling his hips, and her head on his shoulder. He loved that just as much.
6
Charlotte opened her eyes reluctantly. The bed was moving just enough to make her a little anxious. This was California and there were earthquakes. She turned her head to find Lourdes pushing back the covers and tugging on her arm.
"Auntie, I have to go to the bathroom."
Charlotte groaned. Lourdes was very self-sufficient when it came to the bathroom. She went all by herself until it came to the wiping part. She needed a little help with that and washing her hands. "All right, honey. Give me a minute." Usually, there wasn't a minute to be had, but she needed to orient herself.
Before anything else, she did the most important thing. She grabbed Lourdes, swung her back down and pressed kisses all over her face. Lourdes hadn't even protested waking up in a new environment--a testimony to how many times they'd moved to stay ahead of danger.
Lourdes wrapped her arms around Charlotte's neck and kissed her back, making growling noises and acting menacing. "I'm going to eat your face, Auntie. I'm a snow monster." She proceeded to kiss Charlotte all over her chin and eyes and cheeks until both of them were laughing. Lourdes pulled away first to jump on the bed, clearly wanting her aunt to move.
Forcing herself into a sitting position, Charlotte groaned again as her body protested the slightest movement. She looked around the room. It was large, with a wide bed, a dresser and an armoire rather than a closet. Heavy drapes at the window blocked any semblance of daylight. Someone had thoughtfully put in a night-light for Lourdes and it hadn't been her. She hadn't thought of anything but going to bed . . .
Her eyes went wide and she threw back the covers and looked down at herself. Thankfully she was fully clothed. Well, they weren't her clothes, but she was dressed in a long white Victorian-type nightgown. It was beautiful and looked hand stitched. Thank God, her dream was just that, a dream. She'd never had a dream so detailed. Or sexual. Or graphic.
"Auntie," Lourdes insisted. "Hurry."
That meant they had to move. Charlotte didn't know where the bathroom was, but she was fairly certain Lourdes wouldn't have been put in the bedroom if it hadn't been close to a bathroom. She stood up and felt soreness in muscles she hadn't known existed. Too much soreness. Real. Every step she took there was a stretch and burn deep inside. Along her thighs. Her breasts were a little sore.
Charlotte pulled open the door, took Lourdes's hand and walked down the hall to the nearest room. Pushing open the door, she was relieved to find a good-sized bathroom with golden faucets and a deep claw-foot tub. Lourdes raced across the tiled floor to hop on the toilet while Charlie forced each foot forward, a woman going to the gallows, until she stood in front of the ornate gold-framed full-length mirror and stared at herself.
To her absolute horror, there were three rather large strawberries, one on each side of her neck and one low at the base of her throat. She closed her eyes briefly on a groan of despair. She looked like a teenager. She had circles under her eyes, but her skin was glowing. Her hair, always thick, looked shiny and, even to her, beautiful, with waves that fell down her back. She was acutely aware of smells. The scent of roses permeated the room, and she turned away from the mirror to find the source. On the long sink was a dish with beads in it and the scent was coming from there. The dish was hand painted and looked like an antique.
She turned back to the mirror, glanced at Lourdes, who wasn't paying her any attention, and pressed the neckline of her gown down to the swell of her breasts. Sure enough she had marks there as well. There was even the hint of teeth marks along with finger smudges and more strawberries. She covered her face, feeling color sweeping up her neck to infuse her face with pure embarrassment.
"I need help, Auntie."
She took a deep breath and went over to her niece to help her. Lourdes chattered on the way back to her room and was happy when her clothes were all there, in the dresser as well as in the armoire. There were clothes for Charlotte in the armoire as well, and that wouldn't make her happy unless Grace had packed some things for her, but the clothes didn't look like anything she owned. Too expensive. Similar to her things, but not brands she'd ever worn before.
She pressed her hand to trembling lips. She was in way over her head. Men like Tariq Asenguard had women falling at their feet. He was handsome. Mysterious. Wealthy. Sophisticated. Men like him didn't look at girls like her. She had nothing to offer him. She'd had wild sex with him. She remembered the way he made her feel. Just thinking about it sent a spasm through her very core. Thinking about him made her damp. Needy.
Charlotte took a deep breath. She couldn't undo what had happened. It happened. Her hand went to the curve of her breast where she felt achy. Where his mark was. She had to get control and come up with a plan. At least they were all safe for the moment. She didn't understand why her sense of smell was so acute, but she found herself purposefully trying to ferret out the scent of other women who might have come before her. She was certain she was just one of many and he probably wouldn't even remember her name.
"Auntie, I'm hungry." Lourdes tugged on the lacy nightgown.
"I'll bet you are, sweetheart," Charlotte said. "Let's go find the kitchen and get you something to eat." She wasn't going to put on any of those clothes until she had a bath and eased the soreness between her legs.
Genevieve was already in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. She looked beautiful. Serene. So Genevieve. She looked up from the glossy magazine she was reading when Charlotte entered with Lourdes. Her smile froze when her gaze centered on Charlotte's neck.
"Oh. My. God." Jumping up, she rounded the table to sweep aside Charlotte's hair. "You are such a slut. You have a collar around your neck. Girl, you did the dirty with Tariq Asenguard, didn't you? Th
e most sought-after bachelor in the city."
"You have no idea," Charlotte whispered, trying to motivate Genevieve to do the same. She rolled her eyes toward Lourdes and hissed her response in a very low tone. "I totally am a slut. I couldn't help myself. He's, like, off-the-charts good, and I'm not even exaggerating." The aroma of coffee, usually something she loved, made her slightly nauseous. She pressed a hand to her stomach to quiet its churning.
"What's a slut?" Lourdes asked, clearly paying close attention.
"Your auntie," Genevieve answered. "Her picture is beside the word in the dictionary."
"Vi! Stop. Lourdes, that isn't a good word and we shouldn't have been using it. We're joking, but it isn't appropriate." Charlotte made a face at her best friend, widening her eyes to signal she needed to behave herself.
"Tell me everything, or this child is going to get an education," Genevieve warned, pulling a pan down from where it was hanging over the center aisle. "Get the bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator."
Charlotte did so, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the bacon. She'd never noticed that it was so strong even uncooked. "I don't know how it happened, Vi. Seriously. One moment I walked through the door and the next I was kissing him."
Genevieve mouthed the word slut. Charlotte nodded. "With him, totally. I can barely walk this morning and was hoping you'd watch Lourdes while I took a bath." More than anything she needed to inspect the rest of her body for his marks.
"You can barely walk?" Genevieve echoed. "I'm so jealous." She expertly broke the shells of the eggs and whipped the mixture as she talked. The smile faded from her face as she really looked at Charlotte. "All kidding aside, are you all right?"
Charlotte touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip. She could still feel him there. Taste him in her mouth. The bacon and coffee were seriously making her feel sick. If she didn't escape soon, she might really throw up. Everything in her went still.
"Oh. My. God. Genevieve." She slammed her palm over her mouth as if that could keep her thoughts at bay. Her eyes went wide with shock and she knew she looked stricken. She stepped closer to her friend and lowered her voice even more. "I had unprotected sex. What was wrong with me?"