A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(77)

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re gentle and beautiful and sane. His issue would be like him.” His eyes grew blue. “Malevolent, filthy parasites that belong in hell.”

A chill crept up her spine. To hate so deeply…it would have to spill over to any vampire. “We’re kidding ourselves, Lachlain. This will never work between us,” she said, in a tone that even she recognized was utterly defeated.

His brows drew together at her words as if astounded she felt that way. But how could he be?

“Yes, it will. We’ve trials to overcome, but they will be overcome.”

When he said it like that, when she couldn’t sense even the minutest hint of doubt, she almost felt herself believing disparate beings like themselves could make this a go. Almost. She ventured a reassuring expression for him, but didn’t think she pulled it off.

He suddenly rasped, “Christ, lass, I will no’ argue with you when I’ve been too long to find you.” He reached forward to cup her face with both hands. “Let’s speak of this no more. I have something I want to show you.”

He lifted her from the bed, setting her on her feet, then began leading her to the bedroom door though she was naked.

“I need to put on a nightgown!”

“No one’s here.”

“Lachlain! I’m not walking around willy-nilly naked. Okay?”

His lips curled as if he found her modesty endearing. “Then go put on the silk I’ll soon be ripping from you. You’ve no respect for your clothing.”

She glowered, crossed to her dresser, and chose a gown. When she turned back, she found he’d slung on a pair of jeans. She’d realized that about him—he’d begun trying to make her feel more comfortable. Of course, he still often insisted that she “stretch herself.”

He led her downstairs, then past the gallery, until they approached what had to be the end of the castle. There he covered her eyes with his hands, leading her into a room that felt moist and smelled decadent and lush. When he removed his hands, she gasped. He’d taken her to an ancient solarium, but now the light it captured was the moon’s, illuminating all that grew within.

“Flowers. Blooming flowers,” she breathed, staring in disbelief. “A night garden.”



Emma turned to him, bottom lip trembling. “For me?”

Always for you. All things for you. He coughed into his fist. “All your own.”

“How did you know?” She ran to him, leaping up into his arms. As she hugged him tightly—she really was getting to be a strong wee lass—she whispered her thanks in his ear, with little teasing kisses, easing the empty, feral desperation still clinging to him. He’d been stunned to realize how convinced she was that they would end.

After last night and today, he’d hoped their bond had been cemented. For his part, he was lost for her. Yet she dared envision a future without him? When she scrambled down, he reluctantly released her.

He simply had to use every means at his disposal to convince her. As she flitted back and forth among the plants, gently skimming her fingertips down the slick leaves, he wanted to convince her right then and there. When she brought one bloom to her lips and brushed it over them, closing her eyes in bliss, his gut tightened with want. He forced himself to lie back on a long chair, but felt like a voyeur as he watched her.

She crossed to a marble counter lining one of the glass walls and stood on tiptoe against it to reach the hanging plants strung above. Her short shift rose with each of her reaches, flashing him glimpses of her white thighs until he could take it no longer.

He stalked up behind her to clench her hips, and she stilled.

In a breathy voice, she asked, “You’re going to make love to me again, aren’t you?”

In answer, he lifted her onto the counter, tore off her shift, then pressed her naked body back into the blooms.





28


“S o I’m, uh, like a queen now.”

“All hail Queen Emma!” N?x cheered. “Is your coronation the reason you couldn’t call for five days?”

“Or perhaps it was being hung up on repeatedly the last time I tried?” Emma didn’t mention that two days ago she had called and found N?x wasn’t lucid. “Besides, I’m serious,” Emma said, shaking her nail polish bottle. The color was I’m Not Really a Waitress red.

“So am I. And who are your people? Hopefully not all the other vampire Valkyries, or you’ll have no one to tax. Or are they the Lykae?”

“Yep, I’m like queen of the Lykae.” She hopped onto the bed, then stuffed cotton between her toes. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me for fulfilling my destiny?”

“Hmmm. How do you feel about it?”

At the surprise fluttering of disappointment, Emma accidentally painted a stripe on her toe. She frowned, feeling as if she should have done something. As it was, her fate was no more than a quirk of the same. A quirk that had made her the queen of someone great. “I went from co-ed to queen. I’d have to be happy, right?”

“Uh-huh,” N?x said in a noncommittal tone.

“So is Annika there?”

“Nope. Out working on, er, a pet project.”

“How’s she taking this?”

“Luckily, she’s up to her ears with work. Otherwise she’d be more of a wreck since ‘a dog has her Emma.’”