A Vampire's Claim (18 page)

Stop thinking. Just . . . feel.
His hand slid up to her thighs, her hips, and then he was lifting his body over hers, his mouth glistening with her arousal.

Yes. Now.

This was the far more gratifying side to the second mark she could offer, the way the mind could express emotions far more vividly than vocal cords. His cock responded with an impressive flex, pressed against her. As she bathed herself in his flood of need, possession and hunger, she merged it with her own.
It can be a curse, Dev, but it can also be this.

The dew-kissed petals of the rose are said to be red from the blood drawn by its thorns.

Warrior poet
. As she pulled him down to her with insistent hands, he pushed into her, his gentleness a different devastation from the previous times. While she was all wet heat, God, was he huge. She let out a guttural cry as he worked his way in, laying a path of caresses along her throat with his mouth, then down to her sternum. When he cupped her breasts together and began to tease the nipples, suckling her, remembering how he’d drawn water from them, that image softened her muscles.

She arched with a moan and he expertly used the undulation to slide all the way in. Her body clenched down on him at once, welcoming him. He’d pushed his trousers to his ankles, as if knowing she had no patience to wait for him to remove his boots, and it stimulated her further, seeing the masculine boots, his heels pushing against the heavy rock he’d been sitting upon, using it to add force to his thrusts as she locked her legs over his bare buttocks. When her fingers dug into his shoulders, those self-inflicted scars of grief on his chest were a sweet friction as he moved against her, seeking, needing. Incredibly, his size increased, pushing into pain, making impending release ruthless, inevitable.

While her body prepared itself, her clit hardening, her vision narrowed to his rugged, handsome face. He wasn’t pretty. It was like looking at Ayer’s Rock, that incredible sandstone monument rising mysteriously out of the Western desert. Only ten percent of its actual face showed, so much of what it was still below the surface. But on that face, time had sculpted its map, its beauty in its mystery, unable to be captured by words. The meaning of the universe lay in it. She’d been in the city so long, she’d almost forgotten that the Outback offered that. Until she looked up in his face and saw it there.

“Come for me, bushman,” she urged. She pierced him with her nails, drawing blood, reminding her of other hungers he could sate.

As she clamped down on him with her wholly female muscles, she reared up, brought her mouth to his throat. At the same moment, as if anticipating her, he tilted his head, averting his chin. He offered to her, even as she had the need.

God, he would be a perfect full servant.

The astounding thought pushed her over the pinnacle, making her scream out her release even as she pierced him with her fangs.

His blood and seed filled her at once, an ecstasy she couldn’t deny herself.

Even as she knew she’d be left only wanting more.

8

W
HEN she woke, it was midday. Uneasiness had roused her at the unexpected time. He was gone, along with his pack of loose belongings. She saw he’d left her some water in the billy to wash up, as well as the swag on which she’d fallen asleep at dawn, curled comfortably across his body. Her body was apparently still rejuvenating, because she hadn’t felt him slide out from beneath her. He’d left her clothes in easy reach.

Because she was disoriented, for an instant she forgot about the second mark, instead immersed in a painful ripple of betrayal, which was followed closely by anger.

Idiot. Find him.
She shook her head at herself. Reaching out with her senses, she did locate him, about five miles away, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. She tried to sound calm, relaxed.
Dev? Haven’t run off and left me, have you?

A sense of a start, a grunt.
Christ, that takes some getting used to. Like having you pop up right behind me in the middle of
a piss.

That isn’t what I interrupted, was it?
She pressed her lips against a smile, suppressing her relief at his relaxed tone, then wondered why she was restraining herself when there was no one to see.

No, but would have served you right if you’d interrupted something worse. I found us some transportation. I couldn’t fix
the bike, but I used a couple of its parts to get this dinosaur running.
Another grunt, a muttered curse. He was working hard at something. Through his mind, she picked up that he’d found an old ute, one that had apparently bogged in what was now a claypan. The owners hadn’t yet returned to claim it. At first he thought it’d been the old bomb of a group of aborigines and they’d figured it was easier to move on without it, but it was odd, the amount of supplies left, including partially full petrol and water tanks wired into the bed. He was digging a giant hole in front of it.

The second mark could give her some impressions of physical condition, though not as deeply as the third mark. He’d very nearly worn himself out in the hundred-plus heat, so it seemed to her.

What are you doing? Are you drinking enough water?

His patronizing chuckle rankled her, though it didn’t dispel her curiosity.
Don’t worry about me, love. Though, strewth, if I had
any sense, I’d be doing this after dark, instead of when the Devil’s out trying to cook my brain. But I’ve got a demanding
boss who has places to be.

“Doesn’t do me much good if you have a stroke. Why are you digging that big hole?”

Tire anchor. Winch didn’t work on its own. Sand was too soft. You have to bury the spare tire about five feet down, then
attach the winch line. That should pull it out where the ground anchor couldn’t, if I can jack up the back wheels enough to
get enough rough stuff beneath them.
She heard another inventive curse.
Don’t know why the owners didn’t try it
themselves, because they had all this in the cab. Then again, we’re on the edges of your territory, love.

She could tell he regretted letting her have that thought, but her senses sharpened.
You’re seeing something
.

Yeah. Looks like a pack of animals attacked, but the human kind. I see footprints. Small ones. Kids. The driver may have
had kids.
There was a tightness to his voice.
No remains. Just a bad feeling to it.

Uneasiness rippled through her.
How much longer will you be there?

When I get it free or decide to hell with it.

“Dev, get back here before night falls.” She said it aloud, the emphasis intentional. She sensed him stilling, cueing in to her reaction.

You know something?

No,
she responded. Technically an honest statement.
Just a bad feeling, like you said. I’d rather have you close.

No worries, love. I’ ll hurry
.

From his tone, he thought she was worried for herself. He thought like a man, protective of a woman. She rather liked that about him, and in this instance, she was fine with him making that assumption. Because she was also certain he was male enough to ignore her if he realized her concern was for
him
.

Dev did make it back right before sunset, which was good, because she intended to go after him, take a strip of his hide for worrying her. Hearing the welcome rumble of the engine, she cautiously approached the cave mouth, shielding herself from the sun’s lingering rays while watching the dust trail behind the old bush bomb. It had seen better days, but he’d fixed it. God, the man was able to unbog a vehicle by himself through patience, sheer muscle and will, and hot-wire it to boot . . .

Despite the fact she’d had a few hours to lecture herself on not getting too carried away with the idea of him being her full servant, so far he’d proven himself more than capable of it out here. He knew the Outback, as well as how to manage and operate a station, apparently having vacillated between homestead owner, stockman and swagman enough during his lifetime to learn the skills of all three. Another benefit of the second mark was the ability to plumb a man’s capabilities with a quick search, though in truth, she’d been able to pick it up from what she knew of him so far. He’d never make more of his skills than they were. In fact, much like his skill with the whip, he’d more likely underplay them.

He was also a war veteran who’d killed a man in her defense. There hadn’t been even a flicker of hesitation in his eyes when he planted his dagger between her attacker’s shoulder blades.

A silly man who spoke poetry and had hot flashes of temper sprinkled with distracting moments of vulnerability. A decent man who could be counted upon, a rarity in any world, in any society she’d experienced.

Pushing that away, she focused on the present. He’d left the vehicle where it could be seen directly from the cave, and disappeared under the lip of rock.

While today wasn’t even the hottest she knew it could get out here, a temperature over a hundred was going to have an effect on the human body. Therefore, when he made it to the cave mouth, she was already moving to meet him. He stumbled when he hit a bump of rock across the threshold. Though she was ten feet away, it was nothing for a vampire to cross in a blink and catch him, hold him up. “About time you dragged your sorry carcass back here,” she said.

“Well, you know I had to stop and shout a round at the local pub,” he managed, though he let her ease him down to the cool rock.

“And didn’t even bring me a cold one, you piker,” she returned in true bushman style, winning a tired grin.

“You find a place round here that can afford to keep their beer cold, love, I’ll gladly hike out another five miles for it.”

“Shh,” she said firmly. “Enough.” Using the soaked rag, she pressed it to his neck first, then began working her way across his bare chest.

“I’m fine, love, really. But that feels good. Don’t stop. Just completely knackered.”

Worried, she worked the cloth over his chest, the raised scars, then down his belly, sweeping his ribs, up under his armpits. His eyes were already falling shut, but when she took it up to his brow again, his mouth tilted in a sleepy smile as he turned and kissed her wrist.

Vampires possessed highly sensitive erogenous zones in the same areas where they ironically were most likely to bite their prey.

Even in his current state, he had the ability to arouse her. Fortunately, he’d dozed off. But his hand had moved, curling over her arm near the elbow, his head pressed into her hand holding the cloth, lips resting against her wrist.

“Good man,” she murmured, finding herself reluctant to move yet. Glancing up, she saw she was in a position to watch the sunset without being burned by it. As it was off to the left, she couldn’t see the orb itself, only the panorama of colors it flung against the sky. Red and gold, violet and pink. Opening up her mind to the sleeping Dev, she gave him the beauty of it to soothe his exhaustion into deeper sleep.

When she’d been younger, long before her father had been killed, she hadn’t been sure whether she liked living in the Outback.

There seemed to be so much space, and the sunlight was fierce, and frightening. Then one day, her mother took her into a room where they could be out of the sun’s direct light, like this, but she could still see the full tapestry of a sunset. There’d been nothing in its way, for it was the side of the house that didn’t face the mountains. Just the clear, flat expanse of the bush, the occasional tree or hump of scrub. And the sky and the colors were so immense . . . so . . .

It makes you feel like nothing, which at times can be the most comforting feeling in the world.

He’d opened his eyes. She’d let her thoughts as well as her vision fill his head, so now she closed the connection, softly, as she might a favored book, and looked down at him. “I told my mother our land had reached out and marked me, as surely as we bind others to us with our blood.”

“Is that how you do it? The third time? The servant drinks from you?”

The air stilled between them as she saw his gaze move over her throat, considering. It was as heavy and momentous as the artistry spread beyond the cave entrance. His fingers were stroking her arm, absent movements that rippled all the way to her toes.

Then his stomach gurgled at her. The dangerous moment passed, the question left unanswered, for both of them. Danny laid a hand on his abdomen. “Why don’t I put together something from the tucker you’re carrying? I’m not a bad cook.”

That surprised him, she could tell. “Why would a vampire cook?”

Rising, she went to the pack, began to rummage. “You can savor food without eating it. You focus on the smell, appearance . . .

texture. You can enjoy just the taste, letting it rest on your tongue, swirl it in your mouth like wine. It’s a very satisfying experience.”

Giving him a sidelong glance, she added, “I love to watch a man cook for me. The way his hands move over the food, creating something tempting to all the senses, not merely weight for his gullet. It’s very . . . stimulating.”

He snorted, pulling himself into a sitting position, bending his knees and linking dirty hands over them. “Well, I got a ton of metal out of the muck for you, love. I’m a bit jagged out. I’ll amaze you with my culinary talents another day. Don’t want to overwhelm you all at once, after all. But I might be able to handle the stimulating part.”

She tossed him a reproving look. “You keep letting your cock do your thinking, it’s going to kill you. You stay there and rest.”

He smiled again. “You’re a tease, love. Don’t think I don’t know it.” Then he sobered. “Once I eat, we should get on our way. We can make it to your place by sunrise if we don’t run into any other problems.”

“Like the vehicle dying?”

He shook his head. “It’s old, but it’s a Studie. It’s got some heart, though it’ll likely rattle our teeth loose over this terrain.”

Though she wished she had enough experience driving off road to offer to take the wheel, give him more of a rest, she nodded.