Dark Promises (Dark #29) (21 page)

She would
not
harm herself. He didn't care about himself, but she was his lifemate and would have his protection from everything. Everybody. Even herself. He would go into her mind if she didn't back down. He had been careful of her wishes, giving her the time to purge the other man from her mind, but he would have to go back on his word if she continued thinking such blasphemy. They were fully bonded. She was his. Body. Mind. Soul. And heart. She just hadn't accepted it yet. But she would.

“Gabrielle,” he hissed again.

She might have been more afraid when he used the word
punishment
. She might have been genuinely indignant, but at the same time, he was buried deep in her body and he felt the scorching liquid heat of her body's reaction to his dominance. She was made for him. She needed to learn to trust him and relax in his care. He wouldn't let anything hurt her, but she had to come to terms with being a Carpathian. Being a lifemate. Being the lifemate of an ancient who had skated too close to the edge of madness and was left with demons.

She did the most unexpected thing. She brought her hands down and framed his face. Her fingers moved, featherlight, over his rough features. She traced his eyebrows, his eyes, his bone structure, down his jaw, over his nose, and settled on his mouth.

“I won't go back on my word, Aleksei,” she said. “But no matter how angry you get, no matter how many times you throw what I did in my face, I can't change it. I did it. I betrayed you. I didn't mean to do it, but I still did. I accept that. And I accept who you are. I have lived a certain way and I'm going to make more mistakes because I don't know the rules of your world. But I won't go back on my word.”

He hadn't realized his belly was tied into a thousand knots until he heard her affirmation. He believed her. She was confused. Afraid. And miserable. But she wouldn't leave him. Not by seeking the dawn.

He had hurt her. He felt her flinch when he'd brought up her betrayal. He hadn't meant to be so petty as to fling that in her face. Not again. He'd tasted fear when he read her features. She was not adept at hiding her thoughts and clearly she contemplated meeting the dawn. He hadn't known fear for so long he hadn't even recognized the emotion when it first crept into his body and then took over.

“A relationship is about trust, Gabrielle,” he said softly, his lips moving against the pads of her fingers. He curled his tongue around one and sucked it into the heat of his mouth. He began to glide gently in and out of her. “We will start small. One thing at a time. Let me inside you a bit at a time so you understand I am not taking you over. You take pieces of me when you want or need them. When you feel you can process them without panicking. Do you think you can do that?”

She moistened her lips, her gaze clinging to him. Already her body moved to ride his, her hips rising and falling with the rhythm he set. He could see the beauty of her pleasure already pushing the fear from her eyes.

He caught her hair in both hands, fists tightening. “Taste me,
kislány
, remember how good it was. Your hunger is beating at me, and I want this for you. This small step. I do not want to take the triumph from you. Take what belongs to you, Gabrielle.”

She swallowed, ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, and he knew she felt her teeth slide into place. His voice was a sinful temptation—he'd made certain of that—but there was no compulsion. He wanted her to see that she could do this. Be Carpathian. Open the earth. Feed herself. Be a woman who could be self-sufficient. She wouldn't need anyone—not even him—to do those things for her. She needed to feel powerful in her own right. He wanted that for her, and this small thing—a huge obstacle to her—would start her on that path.

You can do this, kislány, I know you can. Kiss your way down to my chest. Ride me while you taste my skin. While you feel my heart beat. While you hear my blood calling to yours.

She looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching his. Her legs drew up on either side of his body so she straddled him completely. Holding his gaze, she nodded slowly, still moving her hips. Riding him. Slowly. Leisurely. Scorching hot.

His hands went to her hips, fingers digging into her flesh while she leaned down and kissed his mouth, just a brush of her lips over his. She kissed his chin. His throat. His cock nearly burst. Suddenly the leisurely ride wasn't enough. Still, he needed to give her this. He wanted it for her. If he took control, she wouldn't feel her own power and that was essential.

Her mouth moved down his chest. He felt her tongue and a groan escaped. She needed to hurry. He simply
needed
. His breath came in ragged gasps and already he was changing the rhythm, rocking her body with each jolting stroke, his hands lifting her and pulling her down hard as he surged up to bury himself in her hot, silken depths.

He felt the scrape of her teeth. Her tongue swirled and then she did it. Her teeth, without his help, bit deep. Found his vein. Hooked in. Connected
them intimately. The erotic pain gave way instantly to pleasure. Such pleasure. His woman. His lifemate, feeding on her own. Taking what was hers. Taking her lifemate's blood for the first time without assistance.

He had that from her. He alone had her body. He was the first. He was the first she took blood from all on her own. He gave her that gift of power. Her mouth moved. His hips took her over and over. When she drank her fill and stroked her tongue over the pinpricks, he caught her up and rolled her, taking her hard. Taking her the way he needed. The way she needed. They both went over the edge together, his face buried in her throat.

So proud of you, kislány. You took control and you did it.
Aleksei lifted his head when he could breathe properly and kissed her thoroughly.
I have to help Fane feed the others. We may have to leave to keep from growing too weak and find blood in the village. Do not enter any of the buildings while I am gone. You can walk around the grounds and you will be safe enough. Do you understand?

He waited for her to nod her head and then he kissed her again before he left her. She rolled over and drew her knees to her chest, curling into the fetal position. He didn't like it, but he could feel the combined hunger of the ancients rising and knew he didn't dare delay ensuring they had their fill of blood.

O
hmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
She'd just had sex with a gorgeous man. A total stranger. On the ground. On her sleeping bag. She was a grandmother for heaven's sake. No. She was a
great
-grandmother. Worse. She hadn't had sex since she was fifteen years old so she was practically a virgin, and she'd acted like a whacked-out slut.

Trixie stared up at the handsome,
gorgeous
face and thought about turning the stake gun on herself. She'd lost her freaking mind. Totally. What was she going to tell her granddaughters? Absolutely nothing. Nada. Nothing at all. “We are going to our graves with this,” she hissed at his smirking, all-too-satisfied face. “I mean it. To. Our. Graves.”

She looked around her. Where were her clothes? Her
panties
.
Ohmygod.
She was naked.
Naked.
Without panties. On a sleeping bag. With a stranger. He had to be a vampire. He had to have cast a spell over her. She was so far above this nonsense, but her body refused to move. Refused to stop quaking and rippling and feeling his
magnificent . . .
um . . . Her mind refused to do anything but give her a picture. That was burned in her brain. And she swore she had skid marks deep inside. He'd branded her there.

“We are going to our graves with what?” Fane asked.

He'd better not be smiling. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes.
“You'd better not be smiling. I mean it. Wipe that self-satisfied male smirk right off your face. You will not tell a single soul that this happened. And it is never going to happen again. I'm dressing and going down the mountain and getting on a plane.”

She took a deep breath. He hadn't moved. He was still locked inside her and she could feel him. So big. Stretching her almost painfully, but in a good way. He should be letting her go. He got what he wanted. Surely he was finished with her. He could have any woman he wanted whether he was centuries old or not. After all those years, she was certain to have
cobwebs
in her . . . um . . . That was it. He was stuck because cobwebs were sticky.

“Lifemate. You are just a little crazy,” he said. “I think I am going to have to stop your mouth and your mind in very creative ways.”

There was amusement in his voice.
Laughter.
He didn't seem in the least afraid of her lecture, her snarky voice or her narrowed eyes. He bent his gorgeous head to hers and took her mouth, his tongue moving right past her parted lips to sweep in and claim her. To shut her up. That's what he meant. To shut her up.

She tried to hold on to her tizzy fit, but her body melted and her mouth caught fire and she lost her train of thought completely. He kissed her thoroughly, his body moving gently in hers before he finally pulled out. He lifted his head. “You can walk around the grounds, but do not enter any of the buildings. I mean it, Trixie. They are dangerous. Other ancients reside here. I have to see to them.”

He did
not
just say that. He really was going to give her the slam, bam, thank-you-ma'am treatment? He wasn't going to hold her? Or talk to her? Or reassure her that she wasn't the complete idiot she knew she was? Of course he was. Men did that. Sixteen-year-old boys did it—of course grown men did. They got what they wanted and they left.

“Trixie. Stop.” Fane said it gently. His hands framed her face. “I will return as quickly as I can. You are exhausted. Go to sleep and wait for me. When I return we can talk.”

She hated his voice because she loved it. She felt it under her skin. Inside of her. She was afraid she'd never get him out. Mostly she hated herself for being such a fool. “Go do whatever it is you have to do.” She wanted him
gone
. She'd been a fool at fifteen, and clearly she was still a fool. There was a reason she didn't have anything to do with men.

Fane sighed. “Do not think you are going to leave the moment I am taking care of business. You would endanger all of us by opening the gates.”

She glared at him. Gave him the
killing
glare. He didn't go up in smoke like he should have. “I have the right to leave.”

“Actually, you do not. You entered the monastery of your own free will. You walked right through the safeguards and you left a trail behind for others to follow.”

She looked around for the vial of holy water. She probably needed to douse herself with it. His sexy voice was beginning to have a “tone” to it, one she didn't like. She wasn't a child to be scolded, although lying there buck naked made her feel vulnerable. She caught up her shirt and pulled it over her head without even looking for her bra.

“There is no need to talk to me in that tone. I warn you right now, I'm not a child you can boss around just because we had great sex. I haven't had sex in so long, it's possible anything could have been called great sex.” Of course there was the outstanding kissing, but she wasn't going to mention that. Instead, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she sat up to wiggle the shirt over her back.

“Lifemate, you are a child to me. Your age is just about the time we are considered adults. Clearly you are feeling shame.” There was an edge to his voice now and his eyes had gone hard. Smoky. “You are my lifemate. My lifemate should want to be with me, not feel shame because we expressed our joy in being together.”

“Joy in being together?” she echoed. She looked around for her stake gun. And she wasn't subtle about it. “I haven't been with a man in
decades
,” she hissed. She snagged her panties and her cargo pants and dragged them close. “You seduce me and then decide you have to go to work and I can stay here and sleep. Then you accuse me of leaving a trail for the others to follow right through your safeguards. In a
tone
.”

She knew something about tone. She was the
queen
of tone. She didn't care how old he was, or even what he was, no one could beat her tone. It was sheer perfection. She gave it to him full blast. “You are a hound dog, just like every other man I have ever run across.”

“Lifemate.” He growled the word at her. His strong white teeth snapped together as if he might take a bite out of her. “You do not ever want to throw your sexual exploits at me. I will overlook the fact that you did not wait for your lifemate, but I will not have them flung in my face.”

She stared at him. Shocked. Unable to move for a moment, her mouth hanging open. “My sexual exploits?” she finally managed to sputter. “You're overlooking my sexual exploits?”

He shifted away from her, standing with a fluid motion that sent a thrill right down her spine. He was fully clothed. She blinked and dragged her pants and underwear into her lap, wishing she could just stand up fully clothed instead of sitting on her sleeping bag feeling his seed trickling down her thigh. There wasn't even a bathroom to clean up. He seemed to be implying she was some kind of a slut—having just had wild sex with a total stranger probably put her in that category, but she was going to shoot him and bury his body right there in that weird building.

“I see you do not intend to be reasonable, Trixie. I told you we would talk when I returned. I would prefer to stay with you and clear these matters up, but my brethren call to me and it is dangerous here. For you. For Aleksei's lifemate and now for me and Aleksei.”

“I didn't bring the others here,” she snapped. She used her panties to clean off her thighs, trying not to die of shame and embarrassment.

He waved his hand and not only was she perfectly clean but she was fully clothed. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized just how powerful Fane really was. She had no idea how he'd talked her into having sex with him. She just knew that looking at him was a terrible mistake, because she wanted to have sex with him again.

He stepped close, took her hand and drew her up, his arm locking around her back, drawing her into him. She wouldn't have let him—at least she lied to herself, telling herself that—but he had to hold her up. Her legs felt weak around him, her knees giving out.

“Trixie.” He murmured her name softly. “Why are you ashamed of being with me? I do not understand. I know you felt the same pleasure I did. Explain this to me. Please.”

Was there hurt in his voice? In his beautiful eyes? She was hurt. Shocked at herself and angry with herself. She was old enough to know better. With
any other man she might have just taken the time as an unexpected gift, but she knew she would forever feel this man inside of her. That wasn't his fault. That was hers.

“In spite of my age, I'm not exactly experienced. I don't have sexual exploits and it's a little embarrassing to have sex with a man I don't know.” There. That was all he was going to get.

She wasn't going to tell him he somehow had wormed his way inside of her and she would never be able to get him out. Or that she was ashamed because at fifteen she'd had a baby because she'd let a boy touch her nine months earlier. Now she'd done the same thing all over again. There had been no dates. No courting. No sweet words. Just sex. It didn't matter that the sex was amazing, it was still her acting like an idiot. She hadn't learned one single lesson in her sixty-odd years of being on earth.

“What is this thing you called me? This ‘hound dog.' It did not sound like a compliment.”

She moved to put a little space between them. His arm locked around her back and his other hand came up to her hair. She had a lot of hair, and no man had put his hands in her hair, ever. The sensation sent a small answering spasm deep in her core. This man was lethal to her. She brought both hands up to push against his chest. The moment her palms encountered his muscles beneath his thin shirt, heat hit her. He was like a drug, rushing through her veins and spreading through her body with incredible heat. She wanted him all over again.

“I don't understand any of this,” she whispered, wanting to be alone so she could have a good cry. In private. She wasn't sharing that. She never cried in front of anyone.

He put a little more pressure on her so that her body was tight against his. Very tight. She sighed and gave in, relaxing against him, allowing him to hold her. She recognized that he was trying to comfort her.

“I know for you it is difficult. I will explain everything when I return. I will not be gone long. Please do me the courtesy of staying within the gates. I am aware you have some kind of gift that allows you to walk through my safeguards, but it is not safe. I will return as fast as possible, and we will clear things up between us.”

She bit her lip, allowing herself a moment to slide her arms around him
and just hold him. Feel him. All that masculine strength. She wouldn't ever have this again, but she had it now. She inclined her head, as if agreeing with him.

“Trixie.” There was amusement in his voice. “I can read your mind.”

She blinked. Pulled back. If that was true, it wasn't a good thing. Her mind was a place no one else should ever be. She censored a lot.

“You leave me no choice. I will add to the safeguards at the gate. One I doubt you will be able to get around. If you go out the gates, lifemate, you will do so without a stitch of clothing on.”

She shoved at him. Hard. “You can't do that. There's no way you can do that.”

He didn't even rock away from her, not so much as an inch, and she put a lot of power in that shove. “Of course I can. I am Carpathian. You will stay here and wait for me as you should. I enjoy your attitude, but open defiance or putting yourself in danger will not be tolerated.”

Her eyebrows shot up. This time she smacked his chest hard. “You did not just say that to me. You did not.”

“I did. Heed my warning,
sívamet
. You walk out of the monastery, you will be doing it naked.”

She had clothes in her backpack. She'd walk out all right, naked or not, and she would . . .

“Trixie. You are going to be difficult.” He waved his hand.

She spun around. He let her by loosening his arm at her back. The moment she was fully facing away from him, he locked her in place again, his arm around her stomach. Her backpack was gone. The only thing left was her vampire-hunting kit—which did not contain a change of clothes—and her sleeping bag.

Trixie sighed and laid her head back against the solid wall of his chest, trying to keep her mind blank so he couldn't read her next move. Since she had no clue what she was going to do, but it probably involved murder and mayhem, she was certain he wouldn't get anything more out of her mind.

“Mayhem and murder?”

The male amusement in his voice, so soft and gentle, coupled with his hand at the nape of her neck was nearly her undoing. He sounded
affectionate. Like he cared. Like she mattered to him and he found her cute, not annoying.

“My murder?” he prompted, turning her back in his arms so that she once again faced him, her body tight against his.

She nodded, her breasts aching and sensitive. There wasn't much else to do besides nod when he was reading her mind. That stupid, stupid stake gun wasn't going to do the trick. It was
so
getting a blistering one-star review when she got back home.

He laughed softly and framed her face with his hands, tipping her mouth toward his. “I will have to work much harder to convince you I am worth far more to you alive than dead. I am certain, given time, you will see just what I can do for you.”

He brought his head down slowly. Very slowly. She should have turned her face away. He was holding her there, but his hands were gentle and she could have escaped. But no. His mouth was too tempting. The look in his eyes was warm, moving right on to hot, and she knew the taste of him.

He took her mouth gently. Well. It started out that way, and then he was kissing her hard and deep, sending her entire body into some kind of weird meltdown. She melted from the inside out due to the firestorm rushing through her. When he lifted his head she heard, to her everlasting shame, a moan of protest escape her throat. She blinked up at him, feeling dazed. Weak. Her hands were fisted in his shirt and she clung to him.