Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(14)

He said, “Rune and Carling were in the stands.”

She had wondered how Rune would feel about the week, and if he would watch the Games. She had never really bonded with Rune, other than to reach a place where they exchanged friendly banter and agreeable pleasantries. There hadn’t been time before he and Aryal left for Chicago to help investigate the assassination attempts against Niniane. Then they had traveled to Adriyel to witness Niniane’s coronation. After returning and only spending a week at home, Rune had left again to pay his debt to the Vampyre sorceress.

He had never come back to New York until now.

She asked gently, “Did you talk with him?”

Dragos shook his head, his face hard.

Such a stubborn, proud male. She stroked his inky, silken hair, the short strands flowing through her fingers like water. Even more gently, she asked, “Did you want to?”

His jaw set. “No.”

That was too complex an answer to be either a truth or a lie. It felt like neither, and both. She didn’t know how to help Dragos with this, other than to listen. She was just glad they were finally talking about it, at least a little. She had tried to broach the subject before a couple of times, only to run into a rare stone wall. “Were you angry when you saw them?”

His eyes flashed again. “Yes.”

She rubbed his chest soothingly. “Maybe somewhat hurt too, or regretful?”

“Those are useless emotions,” he growled between his teeth.

She nodded. Definitely hurt and regretful. “And I’m guessing jealous too.” She met those angry, dangerous gold eyes. “Carling took something of yours that you valued highly, and you’re never going to get it back, at least not in the same way.”

His expression went blank. For a long moment she waited as he stared into space, and she did not know where he went in the complex, serpentine pathways in his head. Then his gaze snapped to hers, and he was back with her again. He lifted a shoulder. “And I also understand,” he said, his voice deepening. “Because if I had to, I would leave everything for you too.”

They looked into each other’s eyes. Then they moved at the same time to hug each other tightly.

Dragos rolled her across him gently so that she lay on her back. He spread his hand over the slight rounded swell of her stomach, brought his head down and kissed her. She murmured, fingering his hair as a heavy, languid pleasure drenched her body.

Their mating frenzy had eased after a month or so, which had almost been a relief. The frenzy was still there if they reached for it, but now desire had grown deeper, richer. Dragos slid his hand under the hem of the bulky T-shirt, and she lifted her torso so that he could pull the shirt over her head.

He palmed her breast and kissed her again, his hand and mouth gentle, lingering. Without clothing the changes from her pregnancy were visible. Her abdomen swelled where before it had been flat, and her br**sts were growing fuller, the full pink, jutting ni**les more sensitive.

“I love watching your body change,” he murmured as he kissed down her throat.

“What, you didn’t like how I looked before?” she said.

His head reared back. He glared at her in sharp incredulity.

She lowered one eyelid in a slow wink at him.

Laughter creased his features. She smiled as she stroked his face, glad she could lighten his mood for a little while. He was such a hard male, and sometimes that hardness bruised others, but sometimes it bruised him most of all.

He cupped her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, running his tongue around the soft, swollen peak and then flicking it with the tip of his tongue, so gentle and sensuous she melted for him, molding her body to his and crooking one leg to rub along the side of his with her naked thigh.

He knew how much she loved it when one of them was nude but the other remained fully clothed.

Once he caught her by surprise. He had dressed for a business function in a black suit that had been hand stitched by some foreign designer. She had chosen to have a lazy day and spent the afternoon reading, stretched out on one of the couches in the penthouse’s great room.

When he returned to the Tower, he was still wearing his sunglasses. The dark lens turned his brutal face into that of an impenetrable stranger’s. She smiled at him as he strode out of the elevator, her heart kicking at the sheer fluidity of power in his massive body as he moved across the floor.

As he neared she lifted her face, expecting him to kiss her before he went to their bedroom to change.

Instead he knelt on one knee, put his hand over her mouth and pushed her down on the pillows.

She froze and stared at him, her heart rate jettisoning into the stratosphere. Her book fell from nerveless fingers. The thud as it landed on the floor sounded a sharp report in the silent penthouse. He took his time looking at her sprawled body, her crumpled T-shirt and cotton shorts, and the light summer blanket tangled around her slender legs. He yanked the blanket off of her.

An insane arousal stabbed her. She fisted one hand in the lapel of his suit and grabbed hold of his thick wrist with the other. The tiniest of veins at his temple beat a hectic tempo, and oh my God, she had to be one twisted pervert, because when he took hold of her T-shirt by the neck and ripped it down the front, she groaned against his palm and almost came.

He tore her shorts away too with an almost leisurely ease, while his half-hidden expression grew darkly flushed with sexual intent. She lay sprawled on the couch, naked except for the simple white wisp of panties. His head turned. She knew he was looking down the length of her. He hooked his fingers into her panties.