***
“Well?” Jolene challenged.
Drago stared down at Jolene’s delicate little hands as they settled on the top of his thighs. He’d been rock hard since she sat down next to him, struggling to contain a desire to rip her jeans off her and bury himself inside her.
“With you, I’ll share all things,” he finally managed, forcing his gaze to hers.
She ran her palms up his thighs. Slowly. Her tongue slid along her full bottom lip. As if she couldn’t wait to taste him. Hell, he couldn’t wait. Yet, for some reason, he knew he had to keep his restraint in place.
Drago held his breath, shackling the hunger burning within him. For some reason, he was afraid to move. Afraid it might make her turn him away.
Easing his legs apart, she stepped between them. They were chin to chin now, and the deep, dark green in her eyes sparked with a hint of challenge. She fingered the material of his T-shirt and her hands crawled beneath the hem to touch his skin.
“You say you want to protect me.” He gave a short nod. “I imagine you justified tying me up back at Purple Magic to protect me, too.”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I did.” She brushed his nipple and scraped a nail over it, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching for her.
“To save me.”
“I did what I had to.”
A smile played on her lips as she molded his chest with her cool, soft palms. “Will you do what you have to do now? To prove you can share the control?”
His brow lifted, and his body tingled with the need to pull her close. To feel her lush curves next to his. “How exactly do you propose I do that?”
She reached down and took one of his hands in hers. “Let me tie you up.”
Drago went completely, utterly still. He’d never in all his two centuries of living given that kind of control to anyone. Not under any circumstances. But this was Jolene, his mate, and for the first time in his life, he understood the power that held. And he gave in to it.
He pushed to his feet, more than willing to let her have her way with him.
Thirteen
Jolene intended to test Drago. To tame him in the process.
He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his watchful gaze potent as she removed two long scarves from a drawer. One red, one black. She’d never played dominant in the extreme way she planned to now, but anticipation of doing so sent little pulses of heat darting through her body.
Ready to begin their game, Jolene cast Drago a steely look full of command. “Get undressed and lay on the bed.” She would be leaving her clothes on, just as he had in the club.
He didn’t move at first, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But then, without words, he began doing her bidding. Jolene leaned against her dresser, enjoying the show as he exposed sinewy muscle and taut, bronzed skin. When he finally stretched out on the mattress, her mouth watered at the sight of him. Her gaze traveled the length of his delicious body, taking in the perfection, lingering on the muscular thighs she’d felt beneath her palms only minutes before.
He was hard, his cock ready for her. It pleased her to know that he was aroused, that giving away the power didn’t change his desire for her.
She forced her eyes upward, taking in the tapered waist and broad chest sprinkled with just the right amount of dark hair. When she finally allowed her eyes to meet his, she allowed the depths of her desire to show. At the club, she had feared what she felt for him. Feared what she didn’t understand. There was no reason to hide it now. She wanted. He wanted. It was as it should be.
Yet what she found in the depth of his stare surprised her. She saw . . . vulnerability. Oh, there was lust. Desire. Heat. But beyond all those emotions, the vulnerability lived. To give himself to her in this way was new to him.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement at this realization. She walked to the edge of the bed and trailed one of the scarves up his calf, then his thigh. And because she couldn’t resist, she let it caress his shaft. It jerked in response and he began to reach for her. She took a step backward and pointed at him. “Hands to your sides.”
He inhaled heavily and she felt his edginess. His lust. The tightly wound primitive desire to take her. Their eyes locked in a standoff of sorts and silently, she dared him to act. Dared him to prove he couldn’t truly share the power.
The breath he’d been holding gushed from his lips, and he let his arms drop to the bed, submission in his actions. She waited a moment, cautious to ensure he was well under control. Then, and only then, she stepped forward, reaching for one of his wrists, tying a scarf around it and then tying it to the metal post above the bed. She repeated her actions with the other wrist.
Sensing his uneasiness, she sat beside him, her hand gently cupping his jaw, the roughness of his dark stubble beneath her palm. His gaze probed hers, as if trying to find some sort of malicious intent, some reason to reclaim control.
She reached for his mind, pleased to find she could connect, that her memories of their communication path were true. Trust me.
After a moment, his gaze softened. It is not my trust in you that is being questioned. It’s yours.
And then the most amazing thing happened. They shared a look so tender, so intense, she could barely breathe. In that moment, she knew, without any doubt, no matter what the future held, she loved this man. It was crazy. Ridiculous even. They’d only just met. Still it was true. There were none of the insecurities of a human marriage in the vampire world. A vampire soul knew its mate.
She reached out and touched his bottom lip, so sensual and full, and shivered with the contact, amazed at how the littlest things impacted her with Drago. He had a strong face. A face full of strength and character. A face full of life, pain and darkness . . . but she knew he’d felt no love and she wanted to change that. She knew this from touching his mind, from touching his soul. And somehow, she knew she was meant to heal his wounds, to make him whole.
With that thought she stood up, no longer wanting to play a game. She wanted to make love to her man. She undressed, forcing herself to go slow when she wanted to rip her clothes off and press her body close to his.
He watched her, primal heat in his hot stare, devouring her body, ravishing her in the most intimate of ways. His eyes caressed her breasts, her thighs, the touch more sensual, more potent than most men could achieve with their hands.
Jolene climbed on top of the bed and settled between his thighs. She hungered to simply feel him inside her, and she had to remind herself of her purpose. Tying him up was a test. A way to find out if he could really allow her to be an equal before she bound herself to him for all eternity.
She settled her hands on his knees, doing a slow slide up his thighs, enjoying the flex of muscles beneath her palms. Lingering at the V of his legs, she eased her hands around his sac, teasing him, knowing what he really wanted, where he really needed her touch. He moaned in response, satisfaction filling her with the sound, urging her onward in her exploration.
Her hand wrapped around his shaft, feeling him grow beneath her grip. Her nipples ached with arousal and she leaned into him, brushing them across the soft head of his cock—one and then the other, trembling with the tiny pricks of burning pleasure the act created. She could feel her core growing wetter. Hotter. More needy. It would be so easy to just climb on top of him and ride.
Instead, she fed his hunger for her another way, teasing his cock with a soft whisper of air blown from her lips. His hips bucked, lifting. He was trying to get her to take him in her mouth.
Jolene flattened her hand on his stomach, smiling at his actions. Loving this feeling of control. “You might have to learn some patience after all.”
She filled her hands with her breasts, touching herself as he seared her with his scorching stare, and then fitted his shaft between them. Instantly, he pumped his hips, sliding back and forth. She was half panting now, aroused and starting to lose control. She stroked her nipples with her thumbs, trying to en
d the ache that seemed only to build and grow larger, more demanding. Pressing her to take things higher and hotter.
Driven by this need, she pulled away from him, wrapping his shaft with her palm, and lapping at the head with a long stroke of her tongue. The salty proof of his arousal told her just how excited he was.
Wanting all of him, every bit of pleasure and submission he had to give, she drew him into her mouth, sucking him hard and deep. He was the one panting now, moaning. Using her hand as a guide, she pumped him, urging his hips into action. Working him over and over, with all she had. Her lips. Her tongue. Her hand.
But she didn’t let him come. The minute she knew he was approaching release, she pulled back, blowing on the tip again. Taking him back down a bit. She licked him like she might an ice cream cone, from top to bottom, and then repeated the act. She wanted to continue to pleasure him, to tease him, but her body screamed for relief, for him inside her.
Caving to her need, Jolene straddled him, guiding him with her hand. Taking his cock inside her, she did a slow slide down his length until she took him all. She leaned forward, hands on his chest, ready to ride him, to feel him, to go beyond the burn of anticipation.
But her eyes locked with his and she went still.
They stared at one another, intimately joined, the sexual play of moments before falling away, replaced by something deeper, more emotional and intense. Warmth spread through her in all ways possible, through her body and soul, a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her lifetime. A feeling of pleasure and peace, sensuality and sweetness. An unexplainable sense of completeness.
“If you must leave me tied up, at least kiss me,” he said softly, no demand in his voice. Only tenderness.
Suddenly, she wanted him free. Wanted the mutual touch. The feel of lovemaking. She leaned forward and tugged at the silk on one of his wrists. The instant he was free, his hand inched into her hair and pulled her mouth to his. He kissed her with such passion, such potent perfection, she couldn’t even begin to think about the other scarf.
When he tore his mouth from hers, his breathing heavy, he pinned her in a sultry stare. “Did I pass your test?”
“Yes,” she whispered, reaching for the wrist that remained tied. Good Lord, he passed, and then some.
His hand went to hers, stilling her action. “Don’t do that unless you are prepared to become mine, Jolene. I don’t trust myself not to take you.”
There was no question left for her. She felt him as the other half of her soul. How could she turn away? “I want you, Drago.”
He didn’t give her time to respond, yanking at the scarf and proving he could have freed himself all along. Perhaps the scarves had been a mental barrier for him more so than a physical one. He’d contained himself for her, for his mate. And to Jolene, this proved more than any binding rope.
Drago pulled her tight against his body, molding her with his hand, his hips beginning to pump, his cock making an erotic slide inside her body. They became one; time didn’t exist. Their kisses, their touches, their movements consuming all else. Jolene couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t take him deep enough.
As if answering the silent cry she screamed for more, Drago’s teeth sank into her neck. The world seemed to spin around her then, perhaps because she knew this was the beginning of forever. Erotic sensations danced along her nerve endings and she melted into his body, chest to chest, her stomach pressed to his.
Amazingly, she felt her mouth water, her desire to taste him as intense as her desire to feel him move inside her. Instinctively, she knew that to drink of him, as he had of her, would seal their bond. And she wanted it. She wanted that more than life itself.
Drago. She whispered the desperate cry in his mind, and he responded, pulling back from his bite and sealing her wound.
His hands framed her face. “If I give you what you want, what you crave at this moment, there is no turning back.”
She didn’t have to think. “I don’t want to turn back.”
He studied her a moment and then brought his wrist to his mouth, biting himself and then pressing it to her lips. The first drop of coppery crimson touched her lips and she moaned, her teeth elongating. A second later, he pulled his wrist away and she knew what to do.
She leaned forward, and sunk her teeth into his neck. He moaned, erotic and deep, and she felt his cock stir inside her again, felt herself responding to his arousal in a primal, animalistic way. She drank deeper, moving with him, desperate for all he could give her, all he had to offer, all she could take. And like the bittersweet taste of the first sip of wine, she felt her release begin to form.
She tore her mouth from his neck, barely finding the control to seal his wound before kissing him. And kiss him she did. With more hunger than she’d ever felt in her life. Feeling each stroke of his tongue, each stroke of his cock, with the intensity of a firestorm. She rocked on top of him, a frenzied rush toward release until she exploded with such force it completely stole her breath.
In her mind, she called his name, but her lips could not. She felt him arch his hips, felt him shudder and shake, heard him in her mind as well. Heard him moan. Heard him call her his mate. And she wished this moment never had to end.
Drago answered her wish with a whisper and a promise. “We have forever, Jolene.”
She sighed with the sweet bliss of complete, utter satisfaction. The kind she’d never felt, never known, until Drago, and she repeated his words because they sounded so perfect. We have forever.
Fourteen
A mere twenty-four hours after Jolene and Drago completed their mating ritual, plans were underway to rescue Carrie and take down Alex. Well past midnight, standing on the deserted pier that docked the Staten Island Ferry, Jolene had both her father and her mate by her side.
Gareth and Galen, the Slayers she’d met only a few minutes earlier, stood within hearing distance. Twins, both wore leather jackets that wouldn’t be needed in the sixty-degree temperature, if not for their ability to conceal an arsenal of weapons. Blond with blue eyes, the two Slayers were not wholly vampire, but apparently part shape-shifter. Jolene didn’t ask details as she might on another occasion. Right now, her focus was bringing Carrie home safely.
Drago glanced down at Jolene, his hands going to her shoulders, his voice and expression full of concern. “You okay?”
The truth was, she wasn’t all that okay. Everyone she loved stood in harm’s way this night. “Nervous,” Jolene admitted. “I wish this was over.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his expression grim. He’d tried to talk her out of coming, offering several plans that would eliminate her presence.
“We can’t risk putting up red flags. It could cost lives. You know that.”
Someone spoke to Drago in his headset. He listened a minute and then eyed Riker. “We’re a go. All teams are in position, here and off-site.” He listened a minute longer before adding, “Five hostiles in covert positions outside our immediate perimeter.”
“You were right,” Riker commented dryly. “Alex didn’t trust you.”
“He wasn’t about to risk me betraying him. Alex always takes out insurance.”
Jolene’s nerves kicked into high gear. Five hostiles. Drago had three of his own men positioned in the shadows, prepared to deal with Alex’s army. “We’re outnumbered.”
“A Slayer fights at a five-to-one ratio,” Riker commented. “They are outnumbered.”
Drago’s hand went to his earpiece again, then, “Show’s on. Four approaching with Carrie in their possession.”
Air rushed from Jolene’s lungs. “She’s alive.”
“And we plan to keep her that way,” Riker said, running his hand down the back of his daughter’s hair before giving Drago a nod and moving into position.
Riker and the twins formed a row, facing off with Drago as if he were the enemy. The four vampires who would soon appear believed Drago to be their boss, directly be
neath Alex. They would join Drago to stand against Riker and the twins.
Drago yanked a rope from his pocket and Jolene held out her hands. He wound it around her wrists, but didn’t tie it off. When the time was right, she’d free herself with a practiced tug.
Positioned in front of Drago, a knife at her neck, Jolene could hear her heart beating in her ears, feel each passing second like a year. The steel wall of Drago’s hard body behind her offered her the only source of calmness.
I will never forgive myself for allowing you to be here for this, in harm’s way, to witness the blood that will be spilled this night.
Jolene could feel Drago’s edginess, the nervous tension racing through his body, charging the air. She had to be strong for him, for all those involved. She sensed her response would impact Drago’s state of mind, perhaps his performance in battle, so she chose her words with care.
Then stop talking, Slayer, and kick some ass so we can go home.
Though he didn’t respond, she felt warmth flood her mind. She’d helped Drago as much as she could. Instinct told her he was focused on the battle before him.
For the second time in a short window of time, she had done what she’d never allowed herself to do. She’d handed control to another. Passed the power to Drago.
She inhaled and let the rightness of that decision fill her. If they made it through this night, she would never face a challenge alone again.
***
Drago had never felt fear in battle before, but he felt it now. Felt it for Jolene. Correction. “Terrified” more aptly described the wrenching pain in his gut. For the first time in his life, he had something to lose. But as the wind lifted her hair, the soft scent of his woman insinuating itself into his nostrils, he realized something else. He realized what he had never understood before this moment: A Slayer wasn’t weaker when mated. Drago had a reason to fight he’d never possessed before. He had Jolene.