A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(74)

His body was shaking and he sank back, pulling her over him to lie on his chest, straddling his hips. “Sleep.” His lids were heavy, but he kissed her. “Tired from sating my young mate. And from your trick.”

Now she remembered the night before, and stiffened. “I only retaliated against yours.” If he took her to task about her actions—

“Aye. I like that you give as you get.” His voice was drowsy as he said against her hair, “You are teaching me, Emmaline.”

At that, the outrage she’d wanted to feel at his actions—or felt she should feel like other, stronger women would—deflated to nonexistence. She was a spineless wuss, she knew it. Because after one mere cataclysmic night in the grass, her first through fifteenth orgasms, and a couple of awed looks, she was tempted to latch on to this strong, bighearted Lykae with two hands and fangs and never let go.

As if reading her mind, he murmured, “Need to sleep. But when I get my strength back, I’ll be able to give you this”—he thrust into her, still semihard—“and all the blood you can drink.”

Her flesh spasmed around him at the thought.

He grinned. “Every night. I promise you.” He kissed her forehead. “Rest for a while.”

“But the sun will be up soon.”

“I’ll have you in our bed well before then.”

Her body was warm and relaxed under his hands, but her mind was in a panic. Yes, she wanted to rest in an open field on top of him near the earth they’d torn apart during hours of sex. But an open field—like a parking lot or a football field or, God forbid, a plain—was a death trap. Sleeping under the stars? Avoid at all costs. She craved cover, thick canopy, a cave or some way to get lower in the earth, farther from the sun.

And still the pull to remain here was strong, conflicting with her need for self-preservation. The Lykae Instinct he’d given her was beautiful, compelling, but there was one problem.

She was a vampire.

He rolled over in sleep, tucking her into his side. He put his knee over her to pull her close and then crooked his arm around her head. Protectively. All around her. Better. Maybe just surrender.

“Mine,” he growled softly. “Missed you.”

Yes. Apparently she’d missed him, too.

Surrender. Trust him. Her eyelids drifted closed. Her last thought was, Never knew day. Or night….





27


I n their bed, Lachlain lay on his side, stroking the backs of his fingers from her navel up between her soft breasts and down again. He felt electricity charging the air and after last night, he now knew it was for her.

He didn’t understand how she could still desire him or why she seemed so pleased with him. He’d woken with a heavy regret for his actions. She had been more than he’d ever dreamed, so beautiful, so passionate, and he’d finally claimed her. Again and again. Beneath the full moon, she’d given him unimaginable, mind-boggling pleasure—and a soul-deep feeling of connection with her.

She’d given these things, but he’d taken her virginity on the ground in the woods like the beast she thought him, shoving into her delicate flesh. He thought…he thought he’d made her scream with pain.

Then he’d marked her neck savagely. She could never see his mark—no one but a Lykae could—or feel it, but she would carry this frenzied brand forever. The Lykae would forever know upon seeing it that he had been out of his mind with lust for her. Or they would reason he’d done it to such a degree as an overtly hostile threat to other males. Both would be true.

Yet in spite of all this, the lass seemed pleased with him, chattering happily, reaching up with a dreamy expression to caress the side of his face.

“You have no’ drunk today. Are you thirsty?”

“No. For some reason, no.” Then she smiled brightly. “Probably because I stole so much yesterday.”

“Saucy lass.” He leaned down and nuzzled her breast, making her jump. “And you know it’s freely given.” He grasped her chin and met her eyes. “You do know that, do you no’? Anytime you need to drink, even if I’m asleep, I want you to take.”

“You really like it?”

“Like is no’ the word I’d use.”

“You’d heal faster if I didn’t.”

“Maybe, but my recovery would no’ be so sweet.”

Still she was insistent. “Lachlain, sometimes I feel like a ball and chain around your ankle.” Before he could protest, she said, “You asked me the first time I drank if I thought you would turn me to a Lykae. Could you?”

He tensed when he saw she was serious. “Emma, you know no living being can change without dying first.” The catalyst for the transformation among the vampires, the ghouls, the wraiths, among all of them, was death. “I would have to turn fully, give myself up to it, and then kill you, hoping that you got infected so you could be reborn.” Praying that she accepted a piece of the beast into her body and that it would roar to life within her—but not too strongly. “And if you survived, you’d be locked away for years until you could control the…possession.” Most took a decade. Some never gained control.

With her shoulders curving in protectively, miserably, she muttered, “And still it almost sounds worth it to me. I hate being a vampire. I hate being hated.”