Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(122)

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hold my Bride like this?” Brushing his lips against her hair, he murmured, “You will never want for anything again, Elizabeth. The world is yours for the taking.”

Again, she felt protected. Safe. Her lids began to grow heavy. But she didn’t want this to end, feared she’d wake tomorrow, and all this would be a dream. “I’m so sleepy.”

“My beautiful girl, dawn nears. And all good vampires are to bed.”

She eased up, arching a brow at him. “Then you’ll stay awake.”

Cupping her face, he lightly covered her mouth with his, tenderly licking her fang, giving her one last taste of blood.

The sweetest good-night kiss. Then back into the secure cradle of his arms.

So why did she still feel a shadow of misgiving? Why did she feel like she had in fact just sold her soul to the devil—and there was a no-refund policy?

No, no. What woman wouldn’t love this god, this decadent lover with power and money, who seemed to worship her body?

If he told her he loved her right now, she’d say it back. And she’d mean it.

But he hadn’t said it. And he’d never told her he was sorry for everything he’d done to her.

I’m Lothaire’s fool. . . .



Lothaire had exactly zero kingdoms under his control. None of his vendettas had been carried out and all of his plans had been upended.

Yet a languorous relaxation spread through him. His lips continued to curl of their own accord.

The satisfaction he felt from stroking Elizabeth’s hair as she slumbered against his chest . . . indescribable.

He’d pleasured her with his body, stoking her need, then sating it. He’d fed her with his blood until her skin was warmed. Now she slept deeply—while he safeguarded her with the strength he’d earned through eons of survival.

Of course she loved him. He knew she’d been about to tell him earlier. So her loyalty was his. . . .

Indescribable.

Lothaire had taken great pains to rehearse that transformation wish, and the ring had done exactly as bidden. Which meant that tomorrow he would give her a gift no other male could offer.

When she absently worried her bottom lip with one of her adorable little fangs, he sighed.

The Enemy of Old f*cking sighed.

Dear gods, it’d finally happened to him.

Happiness.

Then his own fangs sharpened. I will kill anyone who tries to take this feeling away from me.





51


At twilight, Ellie woke with no grogginess. One second she was asleep, the next awake. Weird.

She found Lothaire gazing down at her with a disconcerting tenderness, his tousled hair hanging over one of his eyes.

If he’d been gorgeous before . . . Lothaire looking well loved was breathtaking.

In a gravelly voice, he said, “Good gloaming.”

A vampire version of good morning? “Uh, you too.”

“How do you feel?”

Mentally? The jury’s still out. Body-wise? Amazingly good. Though she refused to admit it.

Ellie didn’t want him thinking he could continue to get away with this high-handedness where she was concerned. If she was going to make a vampiric life—oh, dear Lord—with him, she needed to nip this behavior in the bud.

She shrugged. “I feel okay. It’s definitely different.” She had no twinges, despite their aggressive sex.

But I also have no craving for my usual waffles.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I miss food.” With a pang of sadness, she rose, feeling his eyes on her body as she never had before.

Palpable. Possessive.

“I’ll be your breakfast. I’ve replenished out of the refrigerator. Come, Lizvetta, you love the way I taste. And I know just how you prefer to tap my . . . font.”

So smug. She gazed at him in the bed—it looked like a murder scene. The mattress was shredded. By her claws? Blood was everywhere.

She flushed to realize she’d never offered him her own blood. Did that make her a selfish lover?

He followed her gaze, seeming proud of the destruction. He cast her a self-satisfied smile as if he’d just won an argument. And for some reason his fangs were so . . . incredibly . . . sexy.

Her mind seemed to blank. Lick them, feel them in me. She rubbed her tongue over one of her own.

That sinful vampire could make her a mindless sex slave if she let him.

She shook her head hard, then strode into her bedroom to throw on some clothes. She didn’t trust herself to be naked around him.

When she opened her closet, she broke the knob clean off the door.

“You’ll get used to the strength,” he said, suddenly behind her. As she gaped at the doorknob, he added, “It’s not a bad thing to be strong.”

With a swallow, she set the knob on a shelf and painstakingly began to dress, careful not to destroy fabrics that felt as flimsy as cobwebs.

Lothaire gazed on with an enthralled expression, as if he’d never seen her naked before—or maybe he just didn’t want to let her out of his sight. “Admit it. Vampire sex is better.”

Atomic blast. “Doesn’t matter. Lothaire, we need to talk.”

“We will.” He reached for her, drawing her close, until she could feel his erection like a steel rod against her. “After we spend again, and you feed from me once more. Dorada will return at midnight, but afterward, I have a surprise for you—”