Blood Curse (37 page)

He lifted her hand and kissed it.

Mrs. Darkwell nodded slowly. “This was my gravest challenge. I was told that her mate was a vampire assassin, and I knew I could not take her power away from her until she found him. It has been a hard journey for you, Ophelia. I wish I could have made it easier, but then, you two might not have found love.”

Ophelia sat up from his lap. Despite disheveled hair, torn clothes, and traces of blood on her neck, her cheeks, she looked gorgeous. His heart soared.

“We were destined for each other?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Darkwell. “It was my duty to find soul mates for you girls. You are the last of my labors. And now, if you will stay still, I will take your power away. Forever. As a mortal, you would not have survived it. But now that you are a vampire, you are strong.”

“But what about your son?” Ophelia asked softly. “What did you have to do to him? Not destroy him—?” She, who had feared she could hurt her family, could not imagine how horrible that would be.

“I had to imprison him again. He is safe and this time I will ensure he does not escape. He will have his freedom if he changes, if he learns to set aside his bitterness and hatred.”

“He will,” Guidon insisted gently. “We will help him.”

“Are they safe?”

Raven recognized the concerned feminine voice. Lady Brookshire. “Yes, my lady,” he called out. “We’ve survived. Ophelia is my soul mate for eternity, and Mrs. Darkwell, a demi-goddess intends to free her, finally and completely, from her power.”

He moved to his feet with one swift, strong motion, holding Felie in his arms, and he set her down gently on her feet. She stood strong, but he kept his arm around her waist.

“Very possessive of you, Ravenhunt.” Lady Brookshire smiled knowingly. She wore breeches, boots, and a masculine coat, and rested a loaded crossbow by her thigh. Her cheeks were pink; her silver-green eyes sparkled with delight. “I know what happens next. A very private happy ending. Ophelia, do you wish us to leave now?”

Felie hurried to Lady Brookshire and clasped her friend’s hands. “Yes, I am transformed now, and I feel so—”

“Strong?” asked Lady Brookshire. “And perhaps”—she lowered her voice—“somewhat aroused?”

Felie blushed. She saw that Guidon and Mrs. Darkwell had moved into the room, and stood together, by the fireplace.

“All right, we will leave now. You and Ravenhunt should be alone. We’ll leave a carriage to take you home.”

With that, she was gone.

Raven only had eyes for Felie, but he heard Guidon say softly. “It is time, my dear. Touch her and take her power. Then the curse will be at an end and you will be free. I believe Lady Ophelia is the one hundredth young lady who has found love.”

Mrs. Darkwell moved across the room like an angel flowing over a cloud. She smiled and laid her hands gently on Felie’s shoulders. Felie cried out, and he raced across the floor, ready to catch her, to help her.

But she squealed with joy. “I feel—I feel brighter! I can’t explain it, but I do.”

She threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off his feet. Her lips touched his, and an explosion rocked Raven in a ripple of the ground and a flash of color and light.

Ophelia pulled back.

She looked to Raven, and saw his brows jerk up. “What—what in Hades just happened?” he muttered.

She spun to see what could have startled a vampire, fear gripping her heart. Guidon was gone. In his place was a tall, handsome blond gentleman who had no clothing at all.

“Go,” Aphrodite’s daughter said, shooing them with very ungoddess-like motions. “You have finally found happiness. I know where I would rush to if I were you.”

She smiled wickedly.

Ophelia grasped Ravenhunt’s hand. She gazed into his gleaming black eyes. “Bed!” she declared, at the exact moment he said it.

Hand in hand, they left the abandoned church, where a carriage waited. Her brother’s. The footman bowed. “His lordship has left us at your service, my lady.”

“Where should we go?” she asked.

“Home—I want my home to be yours now.”

“All right,” she agreed. “But only if I can decorate it.”

He laughed, and she loved the rich, delighted sound. As he handed her into the carriage, he admitted, “Before you, I don’t think I ever laughed in my life. Even when I was young, I never had any reason to laugh since I knew my father blamed me for my mother’s death. You’ve brought me pleasure and happiness.”

“This is what I always dreamed of having,” she said softly. “But that’s what love brings, doesn’t it? Well, perhaps not happiness and laughter for every moment. But it gives us the strength so we can laugh. Even when there are hard times, or pain, or fear, love gives us the strength to endure.”

She settled in the seat, and he sat at her side.

“I hated Mrs. Darkwell for keeping me a prisoner,” she continued, “but I must thank her, for she found love for me.”

“I think she has been well rewarded.”

“I am so happy Guidon’s curse is ended. I like him very much.”

Raven grinned. “I never would have guessed that was what he actually looked like.”

“It’s not his looks that are important, Raven. Mrs. Darkwell loved him even when he was a little gnome-like man, and that was because he is intelligent, caring, and has a good and noble heart. Those are the important things.”

“So if I were cursed to look like Guidon, you would still love me?”

“Always,” she said firmly.

The carriage lurched away.

“When we go to bed,” Felie said softly, “I want you to tie me up. I—I know I don’t need to do it anymore, since I can touch you. But I liked it.”

Raven stared in amazement.

“Oh dear, you aren’t shocked, are you?”

“When it comes to lovemaking, Felie, I hope you shock me every day of our lives together. For eternity.”

Candlelight illuminated Raven’s remarkably sculpted derriere. Squinting at the clay in front of her, Ophelia drew her carving tool along the curve she’d formed, trying to match exactly the beautiful muscular shape that defined Raven’s delectable rump.

She didn’t have much time, as they were due to leave very soon. She set down her tools, got up, and walked to her model. He stood in a pose, naked, holding a bow and arrow.

She had to make certain she got this right. She just had to explore those firm cheeks of his a little more—

His rigid cock jolted as she fondled his rump.

Meeting her eyes, Raven groaned. “I’m in pain, love. I need a break. An erotic break.”

“Again?” She gave a teasing pout. “But this will be the fourth one. This sculpture will never be finished at this rate. Every time I make any progress, you insist on stopping.”

He gazed at her with ink-black rueful eyes. “Felie, you spend as much time fondling me as you do sculpting. I’m not strong enough to resist getting aroused when you stroke my arse.”

“Think of this as building fortitude—”

She broke off as he tossed down his bow, cupped her chin, and drew her to him. A shiver rushed over her. He lifted her gently, so she had to stand on tiptoe, and he slowly let his mouth play over hers.

In a long, smoldering, melting kiss, quivers tumbled down to hit the throbbing pulses of desire in her quim, and she gasped into his mouth. She ached for him. Needed him. Hungered for him.

“I want to be tied up,” she whispered, when he let her catch her breath. It was just for fun now, and how she loved it.

He said nothing. He did not have to. She just knew from the hotter light in his eyes exactly what he was going to do.

He lifted her and put her over his shoulder.

He’d built this studio for her in his attic, and it was equipped with a sumptuously appointed daybed: silk sheets, thick rose-scented pillows, and gilt-decorated frame. Downstairs his servants took care of the house. In the month they’d been together, she had helped him change the entire house. True, as vampires, they were creatures of darkness, but she had used her artistic eye to make their nocturnal world beautiful—lush fabrics, many candles, rooms opened.

Raven gently laid her on the bed. Then worry struck. “Do we have time?”

“Very little,” he admitted.

“Then you shall have to tie me up quickly,” she admonished, and she put her hands above her head, wrists locked.

He looped a black velvet rope—kept conveniently by the daybed—around her wrists.

“Ooooh,” she murmured at the soft stroke of velvet on her sensitive skin. How she loved this—this was the only fun way to be a captive, to be mastered by a handsome, black-haired vampire who loved to give her pleasure.

He tied a firm knot, and she played her part of the game, tugging on the rope to prove it was secure and she was his prisoner.

Grinning as she fought the rope, Raven bent and flicked his tongue over her right nipple. It hardened and stood up instantly. She moaned, closing her eyes, and arching her back so he would take her nipple in his mouth and suck her hard.

But he never let her take command so early in the game. He played with the aching tips with his tongue, licking and laving with agonizing leisure.

“The time,” she groaned. “We have to begin to dress.”

His tongue left her nipple, which was not at all what she’d wanted. Opening her eyes, she saw him holding another length of rope. He eyed the juncture of her thighs beneath her skirts.

“Maybe they’ll wait for us,” he murmured. Slowly, oh so slowly, he eased her skirts upward.

“They won’t,” she gasped, as her hems reached her knees.

“Not for late guests,” she added, moaning as the fabric glided over her thighs.

“Not at a wedding,” she squeaked as her skirts were thrown up, covering her bare breasts. “Not when they are marrying at night just so we can
attend
the ceremony.”

“Don’t worry, my love. I can bring you to orgasm very quickly.”

“We have mere minutes.”

“Watch me.” A playful grin touched Raven’s lips, and her heart melted at the sight. How she loved to see him smile. Even though when they were together his lips always lifted in happiness, she never tired of drinking in a grin, a teasing smirk, a soft, genuine smile. Each one made her heart ache with joy.

Raven slid the rope between her legs, and she cried out as it stroked through her nether lips and rubbed along her clit. He looped it around her hips, which pulled it tighter, until it was sawing her hard clit and was soaked with her juices. She was panting, almost ready to explode in pleasure.

“Not yet, love.”

He moved up between her parted legs on his knees. Lifting her hips, he let her bottom rest on his thighs. His erect cock poked her bottom.

“Deep in your ass today, my angel?”

The words robbed her of speech. She squirmed and that tugged the rope, which stroked her clit.
Yes, oh yes, please.

His hands cupped and firmly massaged her bottom. That alone made her head loll back in delight against the bed. His thumb moved against the strips of rope positioned between her bum cheeks.

He held his iron-hard cock against her entrance.

She was ready for him, so aroused her tight little opening was slack and open in invitation.

His thumb dipped in, teasing the sensitive rim. Then his cock slid in. So huge, yet she loved to be so full.

Panting, she rocked her hips up and down, taking every inch of him up her derriere. He gently thrust his hips, shoving deep. So deep she felt his groin slap her ass.

God, it was so good with the rope rubbing her clit, his rock-hard prick sliding in and out of her rump. So good. Heavenly good.

“Raven!” She screamed his name at the impact of her climax. It showered over her, thrilling her, taking her, commanding her. Just as he commanded her.

“Felie,” he gasped. His hips drove against her, making her rump jiggle, as he banged his cock deep. He arched back, and heat and fluid rushed inside.

He rocked against her and he was commanded by his orgasm, by their shared pleasure.

Then his head dropped forward, and he took ragged breaths. “Heaven,” he muttered. “Fucking you is like touching heaven.”

She giggled. “We must get ready. You are to be the best man, at the groom’s side.”

“And you are maid of honor. Though not a maid much longer.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

He winked, then left the daybed. He returned with an ewer of cool water and a cloth, and he cleaned her studiously. But he didn’t untie her.

When he finished, he tossed the cloth in the porcelain pitcher but still left her wrists bound.

“Won’t you let me go?”

“I’d like to keep you my captive a little longer. To do this—”

Long strides took him to his clothes, lying across the arm of a leather chair. He searched the pocket of his tailcoat. Holding something in his palm, he returned.

He approached the daybed from the side. She wriggled her fingers, now feeling more anxious. Time was ticking past, and she refused to be late for the wedding of Harry and Frederica. “Raven—”

“Ophelia, will you marry me? I am deeply, passionately in love with you, and I want you to be my wife forever.”

The words poured out in a rush. Her commanding vampire blushed. Then he held out his hand. Between his index finger and thumb he held a ring bearing a huge, heart-shaped ruby. A bloodred ruby.

Leaning over her, he slipped it on the ring finger of her bound left hand.

“I haven’t answered yet,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t want to give you the chance to say no,” he muttered.

“Say no? You truly thought I might? After everything we have been through, you thought there was any chance at all I might refuse you?”

He nodded. “I did take you prisoner, after all, and I—”

“My answer is yes!” she broke in. “Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to be with you forever.”