Blood Entangled (26 page)

She bit her lip and nodded, trying to hold back another round of stinging tears.

“They’re fools, then. Let me show you to your room. You can get settled, and then find me when you’re ready.”

He didn’t have to spell out what she would be ready for.

Her room was unbelievably luxurious, decorated in cream, and gray, and slate blue. Her muscles eased, and a little energy returned to her bones.

“It’s lovely, thank you.”

Through the bathroom door, her eyes lighted on a Jacuzzi tub. Nothing sounded better than a long soak.

His hand grazed her shoulder and traced a line down her arm. “I’m glad you like it. Would you like to take a bath and then meet me in my room at the end of the hall?”

Her throat closed up, but she forced it open with a swallow. “Yes. That sounds great.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He brushed his lips on her cheek. They were as cool as the colors in the room. They sent no electric sparks through her, and that was soothing too.

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope I’ll be a satisfactory addition to your household.”

“Lena, you couldn’t possibly be more to my liking.”

How could he know that already?

He sped from the room in that stealthy vampire way, and she turned on the hot water tap. She found bubble bath scented with wild angelica, which invaded her yard back home in Alaska every spring. The body aches she had acquired over eighteen hours in bed with Kos melted away in the water. The heartaches, not so much.

She lost track of time, but the water cooled eventually, and she dried off. A white shirt box with a white satin ribbon lay at the foot of the bed. How had he come in without her hearing? Sneaky vampire.

Inside the box was an elegant cream silk negligee that would fall just past her knees. It wasn’t frilly or garish like most lingerie. Its simple, clean lines were trimmed in blue lace, which matched her eyes perfectly. How on earth had he managed that? And because San Francisco was always too cold for sexy nightwear, there was a matching cashmere robe—to die for.

Not exactly a ball gown, but she felt a little like a princess, which somehow seemed like a betrayal of Kos. Only, she didn’t owe him anything.

Underneath the robe was a note card. “Why bother dressing? Just come in something more comfortable.”

She floated down the hall on a raft of expectations. Her feet hardly touched the bamboo floors. She knocked, and Mason opened the door, wearing white silk pajama bottoms that matched her nightie and no shirt to hide his muscular frame. He was all bulky muscle—that explained why he’d looked so good in his suit. His body was sexy, if very different from Kos’s lean, sculpted one.

He stood still, knowing she was appraising him, and his eyes glinted. “I hope I’m to your liking.”

She blew air from between her lips. “You’re handsome and I think you know it.” It took all her nerve to keep cool as she spoke, but he bared his teeth in a hungry smile. She’d earned herself some respect.

His bedroom looked out over the street, past the houses across the way and onto San Francisco Bay. Thousands of shining lights from Alcatraz, from boats on the water, and on the hillside across the bay glinted in a large bay window. A chaise lounge faced the window, and Mason dropped himself onto it.

“Come sit with me.” He flung his legs up and gestured that he wanted her between them.

She tried to be graceful as she climbed across one of his legs and positioned herself there. He sat upright and pulled her by the hips close enough to lean against his hard chest. So far, that was the only part of him that felt hard, which was just fine. She preferred to take things slow.

He ran his hands up the outside of her arms, the pleasant gesture not at all sexual. “Kos said you come from a family of householders?”

“Yes, on my paternal grandmother’s side. She raised me for service.”

“And you decided to follow in her footsteps?” His voice was soft and low, vibrating against her back in a soothing bass tone.

“Yes. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Lucky for me.”

It was so nice to have someone take pains to flatter her. “It’s kind of you to say so.”

“Tell me what you like about serving a vampire.”

“At Andre’s, I enjoyed being part of a big household and cooking for all the women. I love being bitten; Andre seems to think I find it especially potent.”

“Does he? How delightful.”

Regret squeezed her heart. “He didn’t think so.”

“We’ve already agreed he is a fool.”

She giggled, and some of the pressure unwound. “And I want the pleasure of a bite while making love.”

A loud burst of laughter erupted from Mason, surprising her.

“Ah, Lena, you sound like Kos. You should know, I have no intention of making love to you.” He pulled her robe down off her shoulders and ran his fingers up and down her neck, like he was prospecting veins and arteries to find the juiciest one.

His touch sped up her pulse, made her skin tingle. She sighed, collapsing into him. “That’s good, I couldn’t take any more of it. I want a professional arrangement.”

“Perfect. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

With his tongue and his lips, he tasted and teased the sensitive skin on her throat in a way neither Andre nor Kos ever had. Then, he struck without warning, piercing her flesh. She tensed, and fear flooded her veins until his bite relaxed her, helping her to remember that she was submitting willingly.

Her skin prickled with extra sensitivity. The sultry silk brushed her thighs, the cashmere on her arms was divine. Mason reached around to cup her breasts and tease her nipples. She arched her back into him.

Huh—there was no hard bulge against her tailbone. Kos had been hard every time she touched him. But there was nothing wrong with being slow on the trigger.

The oral urges would come soon. She would want to kiss, to suck on something. She’d usually chosen her thumb when Andre fed from her. Although she liked it better when Kos had offered her his own fingers to satisfy the craving. She raised her knuckle to her mouth, but Mason beat her there, and popped the most exquisite chocolate truffle between her lips. As it melted into her taste buds, she let out a groan.

His fingers dropped between her legs. He broke his suction on her open vein to say, “It should be illegal for a woman to eat fine chocolate without having someone stroke her cunt.”

Maybe the word should have shocked her, but it was thrilling. He lapped up the blood that trickled down her neck and resealed his lips to her neck, taking a deep draw of blood. It burned in her veins from her fingertips to her core. She was on fire, all over her body, and the hottest flames danced between her legs where his fingers moved.

The final wave of pleasure hit her. It was her favorite part—the deepest relaxation—like floating in a hot spring. The muscles that supported her organs and wrapped around her bones went limp. If an orgasm was a little death, this was much bigger, pulling her out of herself and anchoring her inside her flesh at the same time. Impossibly heavy, her body sank into Mason.

A loud crack rang out, as if someone had bit into a cracker. What was that?

Around her sternum, her muscles went liquid. Oh shit—it was her—she’d cracked. Mason had melted away all the control damming up her feelings. A sob crawled its way up from her gut. Once it was out, they kept coming, wracking her body, and squeezing her heart. Andre, Kos, destiny, dream babies. It was all too much.

Mason broke the seal on her neck another time to say, “That’s it, Lena, let it out. Let me taste your anguish.” His voice was a rasp. He didn’t stop sucking and continued to stroke her between her legs. His now-firm shaft pointed straight up into her back.

A demanding force built in her belly, burning and hungry. She wanted him to stop, wanted to surrender to her misery, to feel no pleasure. But with his teeth in her neck, she needed to come so bad she could barely stand it. She needed to feel better, she needed Kos, she needed to come. She sobbed harder, rocking her pelvis into his hand.

Finally, he applied just the right amount of pressure to her clitoris, and she exploded in a blubbering catharsis of an orgasm—one big wave of emotion and pleasure crashed her back into Mason’s chest, and the room went black.

Kos drained his glass of Blood Vine.

“Tell me what happened,” Andre insisted.

He should just shut up and play cards, not make Kos talk about Lena.

“S’none of your bishness,” Kos slurred.

“It is my business, because you have severely dented my supply of Blood Vine. If you anticipate keeping up this bender, I am going to hire intoxicated humans to feed you. We cannot waste our cure so that you can try to forget her.”

“Won’t work anyway.” Zoey spoke from behind her hand of cards, fanned out like a peacock’s tail.

“Always works for me.” Bel flashed his more-charming-than-Andre smile at his new stepmother. “Lay off. He doesn’t need therapy. He needs to get shit faced. Then he’ll get over her, and we’ll have our ladies’ man back.”

Good ol’ Bel, coming to his defense. But ladies’ man—really?

“Won’t work.” Zoey shook her head.

Kos’s own head swam, but he liked everything Bel said. That’s what he needed. Why was Zoey being such a downer? Of course it would work. Bel said so.

He affirmed the mantra aloud. “Ofkorz il ork. Be sz.”

“What?” Andre and Bel chimed.

“I’m sorry, honey, but it won’t.” She sounded uncharacteristically maternal.

Bel leaned forward. “With all due respect, Zoey, what the fuck do you know about it? You’ve known him for all of three weeks.”

Andre growled at Bel.

“Shush,” Zoey said.

They were so cute together. Cute, cute! Who would have thought his father could be cute? But Zoey was talking, and he needed to pay attention.

“Andre, he’s right, I’m new. But I think Kos has it bad.”

“S’true. She’s perfect. Allah want.”

“Allah?” Andre asked.

“She’s all he wants.” Zoey translated. Bel and Andre looked at Kos, who nodded to confirm she understood.

Bel leaned over the table and canted his head to look directly at Kos. “It will go away. You’re probably just infatuated.”

“Hopesho.”

“Kos,” Andre shouted.

“Not deaf, drunk!” Kos shouted back.

“Do you love her?”

He rolled his neck; his shoulders were getting tighter and tighter. Why couldn’t they just play cards? Suddenly Andre was standing over him, pulling him out of the chair.

Kos swatted his hands away. “’ack off.”

“Look at me and answer the question. Do you love her?”

“Yesh.”

Bel smirked. The ass had known all along.

“
Davo
. Why on earth did you let her go? Perhaps she’s the one for you.”

Andre an apologist for love?—
Krist,
things changed fast.

“Can’t be the one. S’no such thing,” Kos said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. His voice sounded clearer in his own ears. His thoughts were clearer too.
Must be sobering up
.

“What do you mean?” Andre asked.

“True love’s bogus. Can’t last forever, and everybody winds up broken, or dead, like Mother.”

The room fell silent. Maybe it was the eye of the storm, but Kos took a deep breath and enjoyed it.

“Kos, your mother…do not make generalizations from that marriage. There are things you do not understand.”

“I understand perfectly. When you’re bonded, there’s no end besides the one Mother chose.”

It was like shattering a mirror—all of their smug expressions collapsed. Now they were being honest.

“And what about Zoey?” Andre asked. “I found my one after all.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Kos said. “Can’t last.”

Oops. My head’s not clear enough, or I wouldn’t have said that.

A rumble came from Andre’s chest. Damn it, would they come to blows again?

Instead, Zoey laughed. “Well, at least now we know how you really feel.”