Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(35)

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry that I’m injured.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered.

He nestled into her hair and consciously relaxed, willing his body to heal. “No. We’re in this together. No fault.” Hand still molded over her breast, he reveled in the warmth of her body and the strength of her spirit. Perhaps fate wasn’t such a bitch after all.





Chapter Twelve


It was pitch black when Elena awoke with a start. She lay perfectly still, waiting for the fog of sleep to clear so she could orient herself, which seemed to be harder to do each time she woke.

Nikolai’s big body was wrapped around her still. She smiled at the wicked things she knew he could do with that body. “Imagine the possibilities,” he had said. Yeah, and yum.

He made a hissing sound though his teeth and stirred, which caused him to groan. He must have been in pain. Well, of course he was. He’d been shot full of bullets. She’d only been shot twice, and it had been unbearable. She couldn’t even imagine dozens of wounds. Why hadn’t Aleksandra healed him as he had healed her? Perhaps she needed the power to heal herself, or maybe it would leave an energy trail. He groaned. Poor Nikolai.

Poor Nikolai? What a strange turnaround. Her captor had become the object of her sympathy. How messed up was that?

“Elena,” he murmured, then rolled to his back, sound asleep.

He’d said her name. Was he dreaming about her? Imagining all the things her mind had conjured that they could do together?

“Elena,” he said again.

A rush of power filled her. She rolled over to face him in the pitch blackness, tucking in close to conserve heat.

Tentatively, she placed her hand on his chest, and his even, rhythmic breathing stopped. “It’s only me,” she whispered. Still, he held his breath.

She ran her hand gently across his chest, grazing a nipple with her fingertips, and he inhaled sharply. He was awake. She smiled even wider.

Her near-death experience, well, experiences, had weighed in and taught a powerful lesson. Take advantage of opportunity while you have it, and what an opportunity this was—a naked god of a man was in bed with her. A man who had made her see stars the last time he touched her. What kind of fool would pass that up? Not Elena Arcos, for sure, she decided, trailing her hand below his sternum toward his navel.

His muscles tensed under her touch, which made her one step short of insane. His warm, hard body, in combination with the lingering scent of his blood, made him more irresistible than Aunt Uza’s dark chocolate brownies—and she could eat a whole plate of those.

This level of pure desire shocked her. Sure, she’d experienced a tingle now and then with her ex, but this was absolute raw need, and it caused her whole body to feel electrified and achy.

She trailed her hand lower and traced the trail of crisp hairs leading to…

“Stop,” he said, gently placing his hand over hers.

No. Just, no. “Why?” She wished she could see his face so she could read his emotions, or at least get a glimpse of them. Why would he reject her?

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m still healing.” He slipped out of the bed, and she felt cold all over, inside and out.

Tucking into a ball, she bit down her hurt. He didn’t want her. Of course he wouldn’t. She would eventually be a vampire, which repulsed him. But then, why had he…?

The match he struck over at the stove seemed as bright as a lamp, which gave her a clear view of an impressive erection indicating she didn’t repulse him. Nope. Not at all.

He opened the door to the Franklin stove and held it to some twigs he had placed in there earlier along with some logs over the wet and bloody clothes. With a slight brightening and a crackle, one ignited. He closed the front of the stove, plunging them back into blackness.

“No light at night. No fire during the day. We’ll get it warm enough to sustain us through another day if Aleksi doesn’t come before then.”

Aleksi. Of course. That’s why he stopped her even though it was obvious he wanted her. When asleep, he might call Elena’s name, but awake, he was Aleksandra’s. Elena felt like someone was standing on her rib cage.

“How are you feeling? How is the blood lust?”

And that, too. He didn’t want her to bite him. “Inconsequential.”

“That’s too bad.” He opened the door to the stove, revealing a nice, bright fire and the fact that he was still sporting a huge erection. He closed the door and then slipped back into bed with her. His movements were stiff and his skin cold.

“Too bad?” she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut against the sting of tears. He hated vampires. Turning into one would repulse him. Why was losing the blood lust bad?

He grabbed her by the middle and pulled her against him under the thick blankets and fur. “Terrible. I was hoping to distract you again.”

What the hell? He was the most confusing person ever. He could touch her, but she couldn’t touch him? Wow. A jolt of thrill shot straight between her legs. Shit.

What was it about opportunities she had learned? Oh yeah. To take advantage of them.

“It would warm us up,” he whispered, gently nipping her earlobe. “By the time the fire heats this room, we will be throwing off covers.” He slipped his hand under her pajama shirt. “What do you think?”