The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(98)

He groaned, hating the pain banked in every hollow of her face. "Do you hate me for killing them?" he asked softly.

Her mouth floundered open and closed. "I should."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No." She sighed, a troubled sound. "Even then, I understood."

His relief was a palpable force.

"I would have done the same," she admitted. "I didn't know them, was only there to watch them, learn about them. So many times I've wished my mother hadn't told me about my family. But my father raped her, and I guess she was afraid there were pieces of him inside of me."

No wonder she had reacted so badly when he'd accused her of trying to rape him. It must have seemed as though he were comparing her to the demon her father was. How she must have suffered, knowing she was the product of such a violent, horrific crime.

"You aren't evil, Alyssa. You're perfect." Pinned like this, he could feel all of her curves, all of her femininity. He'd been with her twice, but he had not savored her. He would never make that mistake again. "Remove the blade, love," he told her gently.

At first, she gave no indication that she'd heard him. Then, with another of those labored sighs, she tossed the weapon to the ground. It landed several inches away, close enough for them to grab if another creature made a play for it. "I'm too tired to fight you anymore."

The glowing dome cast her in reverent light, making her appear otherworldly, a phantom that might slip away from him if he wasn't careful. He could tell her what he felt, but he doubted she would believe him. Most likely she would view every word as an attempt to lure her to relaxation so that he could better punish her. Strike.

He reached for the knife at his back. She cringed. He didn't say a word, just pulled from her and sat on his knees, legs straddling her waist.

"Is this the part where you kill me?" A question without any heat or emotion. "You owe me, after all. For what my family did to yours."

Slowly, so as not to scare her, he lowered the blade and held it to her, hilt first. "Take it."

"Wh-what?"

"Take it."

Suspicions darkened her expression. "Why?"

"I wish you to have my weapon."

"Why?" she repeated, still unsure of his purpose. "Why have me toss mine if you wanted me to have yours?"

"So you realize that what is mine is now yours. We are on equal ground now, as you wanted."

No part of her softened. "I doubt this is your only weapon."

Very true. "The gesture is symbolic then," he said drily.

"I'll reach for it and you'll laugh and then stab me." She shook her head, hair grinding into the dirt. "Sorry."

He tsked under his tongue, trying for a nonchalance that he didn't feel, and stood. He placed the blade beside her and stepped back, holding his arms wide. "If you wish, I will strip here of everything. Know that I don't want to, don't want to place you in danger and not be armed to protect you, but if you wish it, it will be done."

Her slitted gaze circled the growing crowd around them. At the women eyeing him, even inching toward him, reaching out for a touch of his skin.

With a hiss, she grabbed the blade and leapt to her feet. She also snatched her own and held both in her hands when she faced him. "Shall we fight?"

"No. We shall enter that home." He pointed to the small hut he'd been crouched beside.

That gave her pause. "Why?"

"Alyssa. Please. You are armed, I am not. You are warrior enough to subdue me if I do anything you dislike. All I desire is a few moments of your time. Alone."

Indecision played over her delicate face. Once, twice, she opened her mouth to speak but no sound emerged. She glanced at the house, taking its measure, then at Shivawn. Finally she found her voice. "Fine," she said, stomping to the hut and disappearing inside.

He eyed the rapt crowd. Damn, but the females were closing in fast. Like Alyssa, he stalked to the home - a home he'd purchased just a few hours ago - and called over his shoulder, "Stay out no matter what you hear. Enter and you will regret it." Nymph warriors were slow to anger, but when their tempers were roused, all of Atlantis suffered the consequences.

When he closed the door behind him, he wasn't sure what he'd find. Alyssa, ready for battle. Alyssa, ready for loving. What he ended up finding broke his heart into thousands of tiny pieces. She knelt in front of the fire he'd built several hours ago, poking it with a stick. The weapons were forgotten at her feet. Her shoulders were slumped, tear streaks on her cheeks.

"Don't cry, love," he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of. We're here, together, and I own this house, so do not worry about being disturbed."

The only bed was draped with chains, the very chains she'd used on him. He'd put them there, hoping he would not be forced to use them. Had she seen them?

"Now you will chain me, humiliate me and leave me once and for all. Right?"

He sighed. She'd seen them. "No. That is not how this will progress."

Her head snapped up, and she was blinking in surprise. "How then?"

He reached back and tugged his shirt over his head. As he tossed the material aside, a shocked gasp escaped her. "Now I'm going to love you," he said. He unwound the ties at the waist of his pants, loosening them.