The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(81)

"Where?" He fisted his cock and moved up, down, in a measured stroke.

I want to be the one to pleasure you. "Everywhere."

"You asked me before what evil things I had done, if I had killed a woman."

Her gaze snapped up, clashed with his. "That - " hardly matters now, she was unable to say.

"Not only did I slay Marina, I slayed the wife of a dragon," he interjected. "He was there...that night...he was there. He escaped before I could take his heart and hack it to bits. But I followed him. I watched him. He had a family. A wife, a child."

"Layel - " She made to sit up but he was suddenly on top of her, pushing her back into the moss, his knees pinning her shoulders, his cock rising just in front of her face. She yelped in surprise, but didn't protest. She simply peered up at him, silent, beckoning him to finish. For he had sounded torn, part of him thinking - hoping - she would reject him, part of him...afraid? Afraid that he would die if she did? "Tell me."

His eyes glazed with the darkness of his memories, a darkness still infused with passion. "I was infuriated. Crazed. The bastard had violated my woman, had laughed while she screamed and fought and then returned to his own woman for comfort."

Delilah bowed her wrists and caressed as much of his thighs as she could, offering her own comfort.

His fangs lengthened, sharpened.

"And?" she prompted softly.

"I snuck inside his home that night. I drank from the two of them to weaken them and then I tied them up. I meant to take her, use her, as he had done - as he - " Layel drew in a labored breath, released it. "But I couldn't. She was crying, pleading. So I killed her instead, right in front of him. I didn't give him the same courtesy, though. I dragged him back to my palace and locked him up, letting him live with the image of what he'd done, what I'd done."

As Layel had had to do, she thought, aching for him.

"But as the days continued to pass, his life...offended me. I couldn't tolerate breathing the same air as him. So I called my people forward and let them drink from him, tear him limb from limb, his screams of agony in my ears. I laughed, but his pain wasn't enough, not nearly enough."

"I'm sorry."

"I burned him until there was nothing left but bones. And then I used those bones to make my throne, and every time I sit on it - him, all of them responsible - I pray he is rotting in Hades."

When his words faded, silence enveloped them, laden with tension.

"Do you still desire me? Do you still want such evil inside of you?" Again he sounded as if he was at war with himself, wanting two different things from her. Exactly as she had felt when she'd first met him.

"You're not evil. But, yes, I do." And that was the truth. She wouldn't have thought it possible to desire him more, but she did. The fierceness of him, the darkness...they called to her, drew her. They represented the very thing she'd always craved for herself: to be loved so inexorably, no act was too vile when it came protecting her - or avenging her.

But because of that ferocity, Layel would never be an easy man. He would always be brutal, savage. He was conflicted and complex, hurt and broken, would probably never be whole. He wasn't misunderstood, and there could be no deluding herself about who and what he was. There was no denying he'd done an evil thing. Many evil things.

"Yes," she repeated, confident. "Yes. I still want you inside of me."

He jerked as if she'd punched him. Not the reaction she'd expected. "What did you say?"

"I still want to be with you. Release my arms now. Please. I need to touch you, Layel."

A play of emotions danced over his features. The same bombardment she had experienced earlier, a combination of a thousand different feelings, both wonderful and terrible. "You...want to touch me still?"

"More than anything I've ever wanted before."

As if he feared moving too quickly, he gradually moved down her body until his knees straddled her waist. Shoulders finally free, she reached up and flattened her palms on his powerful thighs.

The muscles underneath jumped.

"I love the feel of you," she whispered.

"Delilah," he said, and it was a broken cry. "I will be careful with you." It was a vow. "Tonight I will be careful. You will experience nothing but pleasure."

She studied him through the thick fan of her lashes, shadows twining around him like midnight phantoms who meant to carry him away. "I don't want you careful. I want you inside me, hard and demanding."

He leaned down, this beautiful dark warrior, and laved at her neck, his tongue a hot brand. "You are so lovely. So strong and brave."

"Again," she gasped, hips arching. "Lick again."

While he obeyed, his body covered hers, his legs between hers, his cock rubbing against her belly. She rocked into him as he palmed one of her breasts, unable to remain still. The pleasure was simply too great. "Good?"

"Yes."

"I could lick you forever. Want to lick all your tattoos." His mouth soon replaced his fingers and he sucked her nipple gently, so gently. "What do they mean?"

"Victory."

He chuckled softly, and she shuddered at the exquisite bliss the sound wrought. "Should have known," he said. "Tell me if I do something you don't like. It's been a long time for me."