Last Vamp Standing (18 page)

“I do.”

The reality check from hell seized Dante by the balls. It didn’t matter how much he wanted Ariana. She was a fool who didn’t know what she was asking for. She couldn’t know him when he didn’t know himself.

“What makes you think you know anything about me?”

“I know more than you think.” Her eyes drifted closed playfully, channeling a fortune teller of a forgotten age. “I know your skin heats to radiant levels when I touch you and your eyes drift to my breasts when you think I’m not looking.” She opened one eye, chancing a peek.

Dante forced his gaze to remain steady, though it drifted toward the swell of her breasts as if they had their own gravitational pull.

“Physicality is obvious,” he said as Ariana laid both breathtaking hazelnut eyes upon him. “But that has nothing to do with my character.”

She didn’t know him. She couldn’t. If Ariana knew what kind of a monster Dante really was, what he’d done to women in her position in the past, she’d run for the hills, not poke the dragon with a big-ass stick.

Still, Ariana brought her face closer to his, teasingly slow, until he could nearly taste the sweetness of her breath. As his stomach dropped and his lips parted, she smiled. But held her ground.

“I know how hard your heart beats when I kiss you,” she whispered against his lips. “And I bet blood roars in your veins when I do this.” She cupped his face in her hands and grazed two thumbs over the stubble on his jaw line.

She was right.
Damn it,
she was right. His blood became fevered, his skin searing beneath her touch. He was in heaps of trouble, too deep to turn back now. As long as he could hang onto a thread of control, no matter how fine, he could sink into Ariana without pulling from her soul.

Couldn’t he?

“Still,” Dante said, holding his breath. “Only physical reactions.”

“You think a racing heart is physical?” Two pounding beats. “I was wrong about you, Dante. You’re not blind at all. You’re just inexperienced.”

“Inexperienced my ass.” With a swift tug, Dante pulled Ariana into his arms.

His senses exploded at the contact. Her natural fragrance was feminine, too strong, and hit him like a thunderclap. Her body would feel like velvety heaven sliding against his, writhing beneath him, falling all over him. And her breasts—good Lord—they pressed against his chest until he could feel the tight buds of her nipples through his clothes.

Unable to fight back the desire a second longer, Dante crushed his lips to hers. Her tongue assaulted his mouth with such unbridled passion, Dante wondered how any man could withstand this kind of assault from her body.

He couldn’t wait to find out. As long as the voices didn’t surface, as long as he didn’t hunger for her—

Don’t even think about it. Don’t even let the thought in.

He couldn’t plant the seed for fear it would fester.

Dante tugged Ariana against him, relishing the feel of her body against his. She was tiny in his arms, a petite thing that could engulf him in bittersweet agony with the slightest whip of her tongue.

Agonize him she did.

Mewing sounds of pleasure escaped her, drifting into Dante’s mouth, hardening him to stone. He let his fingers dance over her beautifully sculpted shoulder blades before he moved toward her neck and latched onto her braid.

He gave a small tug, pulling her head back, revealing the long, luxurious span of her neck. Her heartbeat fluttered wildly beneath her thin sheath of skin. She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling as if she were afraid.

But her nails gouged into his shoulder blades, urging him on. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted this.

He squelched down the surprise rising in his middle. Ariana’s pleasure was rising, her arousal blooming for him. But he wasn’t absorbing an ounce of it. Nothing reached out for Ariana’s soul and latched on to her innocence.

Not wanting to get too excited, Dante bent low and licked a slow line beneath her jaw, then settled over her jugular. He kissed her there, right on that sweet, pulsing vein, and smudged his mouth along her neck.

“Dante . . .”

She whispered it. A single word that carried on the wind and hooked back around—a boomerang of syllables that nailed him square in the chest. The luscious sound of her voice, husky in its pleasure, burrowed deep in his ears, reverberating like a gong off his skull. Goosebumps flashed over Dante’s skin, slowing the pumping of blood through his veins.

Suddenly, as if a curtain had drawn on their encounter, everything moved in slow motion. Despite the hard-on he was rocking in his pants and the raging desire to lay Ariana back onto the chaise lounge in the corner, he became hyper aware of his situation. Of the slowing of things when they should be speeding along.

It was the reaction that preceded the gurgle of his cursed demonic voices.

Dante released her braid and waited . . .

“What is it?” Ariana brought her gaze back to center.

“Nothing.” Yet his hands remained flat on her back, his lips far from hers. He had to focus. Had to regain control over his body. He couldn’t lose control . . .

Whatever he did to block Ariana’s pleasure from feeding his sick hunger—and damn, did he wish he knew what it was—he needed to keep it going. Those voices would drown out everything and distract him. He could hurt her without realizing it.

That couldn’t happen.

Before he could stop her, Ariana scraped her hands over Dante’s head, then hooked them around his neck. She kissed him harder, the urgency escalating with each delicious whip of her tongue. She set fire to something inside him. Explored his mouth. Licked and nipped at his bottom lip.

If he wanted this, if he wanted her, he had to wage all-out war with one of his greatest demons. He’d have to fight to push them back, bury them down deep in his soul for as long as he could.

As he gazed into the sparkling depths of Ariana’s eyes, realization washed over him in a cold wave. If any woman was worth the fight, it was her.

Chapter Seventeen

“Sierra Nevada’s haven has fallen, leaving Black Moon as the last running haven in the state. Savage is coming for the elders beyond those enchanted walls. It’s a guess, but we’re not dealing with rocket science.”

W
ATCHER
A
RCHIVE, REPORT ON
S
AVAGE

A
RIANA COULDN’T CATCH
her breath. She couldn’t think about anything but Dante’s hands possessing her body and his lips devouring hers. Which was wonderful in the most dizzying way.

She wasn’t sure the reason he’d pulled back. The reason his gaze had drifted somewhere she couldn’t follow. It didn’t matter. He’d returned.

His desperate hands roamed her body as if they had a mind of their own, clawing down her back, gripping and pulling at her waist. Ariana welcomed the onslaught, savoring every fiery touch, every stroke of his tongue against the inside of her cheek.

Was he as out of breath as she was? As hungry for their bodies to touch skin to skin?

“Inside,” he mumbled against her mouth.

Whether he meant he wanted to be inside her, or he wanted them to move indoors, Ariana wasn’t sure. But she sure as hell wasn’t about to open her mouth to question him—she could think of a thousand other things she’d rather be doing with it.

Leading him step by step, she backed Dante against the chaise and guided him down to sitting. He leaned back and stretched out, dwarfing the chair, taking up every inch of space. The hard edge in his eyes had returned, along with the ticking clench in his jaw. He looked to be fighting something, though hell if Ariana knew what that was.

She hiked her skirt up. Straddled him. And pulled Dante up by his collar to meet her. As she settled over his groin, she sighed and closed her eyes. He was rock hard, rubbing against the ache between her legs. Only a few layers of clothing stopped his shaft from meeting her center completely. Her core drenched at the contact, responding like her body knew what was coming.

On a low groan, Dante caught her mouth. Swirled his tongue along hers. Toyed with her. Set her stomach on high-speed spin. She toyed with him right back, kissing him hard, open mouthed and desperate, then pulling back and kissing him softer and more delicately.

It was a cycle that proved to be as torturous on Dante as it was on Ariana. Her heart couldn’t beat any faster. Her lungs couldn’t squeeze in any more air.

A part of Ariana wanted to tease Dante until he lost control. She wanted him to flip her over and make love to her until morning light shined over their spent, glistening bodies. But another part of her, perhaps the part that had seen what the Dante Unleashed Show was all about, wondered if concern for her safety was the reason he kept pulling back.

Although she felt safer with Dante than she had with anyone else, she’d trusted Echo, too. Was her trust meter still whacked out? Or was she over thinking?

When Dante leaned back and stripped out of his shirt,
thinking
no longer posed a problem. Ariana’s heartbeat went from slow to nonexistent, her legs tingly numb.

Even though she’d had plenty of time to marvel at his stature the two days while he was unconscious, she couldn’t escape the shock of seeing him again. She was gripped by the sight of him. Held tight, breath caught. His chest was huge, twitching and pulsing, glowing with a sheen of sweat. Bronze and chiseled abs rivaled marble statues she’d studied of the Greek gods.

This time was very different from the last.

This time his body responded to her touch.

Losing sight of everything but this moment, Ariana traced her fingers over the lines of his scars, around the raised mark where Pike had stabbed him, over his chest where two marks dug into his flesh.

His breath hitched. She met his eyes. They were dark. Hungry.

He palmed her breast, brushed his thumb over her nipple. Her body melted and her hips rolled. And before Ariana knew what was happening, his hips were moving beneath hers, small circles that promised he’d be as wicked talented off his feet as he was on them.

She needed out of her dress.
Now.

As Dante continued to work magic with his mouth, searing a line of kisses across her neck and shoulder, Ariana reached down and grabbed hold of the bottom hemline of her dress. With a swift yank, she pulled the dress over her hips, then shimmied it over her waist and breasts.

Before she could push the armfuls of chiffon over her head, Dante pressed against her and dragged her down. She tossed the dress aside and hung her head back, delighting in the feel of his skin on hers. He was rough where she was soft. Hard where she craved pressure.

He was her fantasy come to life. Everything she’d ever dreamed.

She melted into him. Nuzzled into his neck. And as he gripped two handfuls of her backside, a spike of bloodlust rammed into her core, tipping her over the edge. Below the ridge of sculpted muscle stretching from Dante’s neck to his shoulder, a thick vein pulsed beneath honey bronze skin.

Burying her face into his neck, Ariana licked the vein. Squirmed inside as it pounded wildly against her tongue. Her fangs dropped, humming, sparking, vibrating with hunger.

Dante palmed the back of her head. Pulled her back, away from his vein. Groaned in what sounded like pain. Then with a thrust of his hips, he pushed her head back down. If that was his attempt to fight her off, it was weak and didn’t last long.

She took full advantage.

She slid the tips of her fangs into his skin, quivering as the first tang of blood hit the back of her throat. His blood was musky, with hints of smoke. Rich with iron. Just how she imagined he’d taste.

Strong. The blood of a warrior.
Irresistible.

As she fully sheathed her fangs and took a harder draw, Dante moaned deep within his chest. It reverberated around her, fueling her hunger. She pulled harder. Savored the taste of him entering her mouth, sliding along her tongue. Filling her.

Ariana pulled back, massaging his skin with her fangs as she withdrew them.

“You taste so good,” she said, licking a drip of his blood out of the corner of her mouth. “I want more.”

“Not yet.” He growled. The tips of his fangs gleamed brilliantly white. “It’s my turn.”

She shuddered, wanting nothing more than for him to take from her as she took from him. Breath hitching, Ariana dragged her braid over her shoulder and leaned her head to the side, giving him full access to her vein.

He didn’t take it.

Eyes blazing liquid gold, Dante snaked his arms around her backside. Lifted her onto his lap. Stood up in one hurried move. She gasped in delight, cinching her legs around his middle, coiling her arms around his neck. And when he set her on her feet facing the balcony instead of laying her down on the chaise, confusion set in.

He kneeled on the cement in front of her. Brushed his hand along the flat span of her stomach, so deviously slow. She quivered at his touch. Rolled her eyes back and tunneled fingers through his hair, grasping a handful and pulling it from the roots. He groaned and rested his forehead on her stomach.

For a second, a split disheartening second, Ariana thought Dante was going to stop. That another kiss and another touch was enough to satiate his desires. He was hesitating. Debating something she couldn’t fathom.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I want you so bad.” He shook his head, brushing his lips against her stomach. “I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

“I’m right here.” She tipped his chin up with her fingers. “Right in front of you.”

His heavy-lidded gaze burned bright and bore into her, sizzling with what Ariana could only describe as torment. He needed something that was out of reach. Something he couldn’t say or wouldn’t do. The pain was written all over his face, etched in tiny creases that had sprouted on his forehead and beside his eyes. If only she knew what it was. What was torturing him so much that he couldn’t focus on the passion sparking between them?

She blinked quickly, as if at any moment the battle he seemed to be fighting would manifest before her eyes.

“Whatever you need . . .”
Blood. Sex.
“Take from me.”

As if she jolted juice back into his battery, the lines on his face disappeared. The torment plaguing his eyes eased. He remained on his knees. Stripped her out of her panties, first one leg, then the other. He moved slowly. Controlled. His gaze blistered her skin, lighting her core on fire in molten heat.

She’d never known undressing to be so sensual.

He spread her legs by dragging a soft, slow finger through her slick heat. Reached between her legs and grasped a fistful of her rear.

Ariana didn’t have time to be shy. To realize what he was about to do or stop him. Not that she would’ve.

Moving as if he had the plan fully concocted in his head, Dante skimmed his hand down her left leg, grabbed hold of her ankle, and lifted, propping her leg on the chaise she’d fully planned to stretch out on.

He found another use for the chair.

As Dante licked his lips and bent low to put his mouth on her, Ariana blanched, nearly falling over onto the balcony.

“Easy now,” he mumbled, looking up from between her legs with a ravenous gleam in his eye. “I don’t want you to fall . . . at least not yet.”

She didn’t plan on falling anywhere anytime soon. But when his hands parted her sensitive folds and his tongue dove into her core, her legs gave way to a shudder. It rocked her whole body, dropping her head back and buckling her knees. Barely steadying herself, Ariana used the chaise to push off, to raise her hips higher.

Dante took the gesture and ran with it, palming her rear, angling her hips forward to tease her pleasure spot. She bucked against his hand, his tongue, wishing he’d never stop.

Alternating between swift flicks of his tongue and slow, lazy draws, Dante drove Ariana wild. Made her want to crawl out of her skin. Made her want to lower herself over him until the pressure of his mouth soothed the ache that was gathering in her center.

When her hips began to writhe, Dante moaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated something deep within her. The sensations increased, multiplying into ripples of white-hot pleasure, gathering, concentrating and then—she exploded against his mouth, riding the currents of ecstasy into the hardest, most luxurious orgasm of her life.

When she thought the tide had ebbed, Dante slipped two fingers inside her and massaged her into another orgasm that lasted longer than the first. Between the pressure of his fingers and the heat of his mouth, she was irrevocably lost in the moment, in him.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t bring strength back to her legs. Drawing in a jagged breath, Ariana toppled and somehow managed to land right on his lap.

“Let the record state I was wrong.” Ariana collapsed into his arms, her words spoken between shudders. “You are most definitely
not
inexperienced.”

He exhaled into a laugh. “There’s something to be said for finding the right partner.”

The fact that Dante thought Ariana was the right partner made her all kinds of ecstatic. Especially if that meant she could start dinging the bell for round two.

Unable to keep her hands off him, Ariana reached between their bodies, sliding her hand along his chest, down the ridges of his abs. Dante hissed, his skin jumping at the contact. When she reached the rim of his pants, he jumped again, though this time the movement was different.

He flinched. Like he didn’t want her to touch him at all.

She stilled, her fingers dancing along the lowest ripple of his abs. He’d turned into a rigid wall of steel. The muscles on his neck strained with the kind of tension brought on before a fight. Ariana recognized the reaction right away. She’d seen his muscles flare and tighten that way before.

As she kissed his shoulder, his neck, and licked the scruffy underside of his jaw, he relaxed into her again, moaning in approval. She explored him then, her hand traveling over the enormous bulge in his pants. She could barely close her hand around him! His erection was as hard as a rock—every inch as solid as the rest of him.

Tingles of pleasure shot through Ariana’s middle as she slipped her hand beneath the rim of his pants and brushed the thick, swollen head of his shaft.

A sound of absolute agony escaped him and he jerked away, his gaze sharpening on hers. He stilled, the color in his face draining to full moon white.

Ariana pulled back, gazed deep into those swirling gold eyes and—

“
What the hell?
” She nearly jumped out of his arms.

“Oh God, what’s wrong?” Dante asked, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think I pulled a thing from you, I couldn’t have!”

“Look.”

Arching across his shoulder, over his back and down the entire left side of his body, was a mark that resembled a tribal tattoo. It was shadowy black. Long and detailed, with tiny vines and thick-headed branches. It sure as hell hadn’t been there when he’d taken his shirt off not ten minutes before.

“What the fuck?” he breathed, reaching out to touch the smoke-like mark beneath his arm.

The damn thing moved. Squirmed to life beneath his touch. The part he touched disappeared, only to reappear as an extension on another part of the tattoo. He jerked his hand away like the mark burned him.

Ariana eased off his lap, the horror of Pike’s words drumming in her ears. “The mark presents itself when you resist your urges.”

“Stop.” Anger seeped from Dante’s pores.

“Pike . . .” she whispered, skin shrinking over her bones.

Dante was a Watcher. It was the only explanation. The only thing that made sense. Despite his bag of tricks that resembled an elder’s maware, Dante wasn’t a vampire at all. At least not a full-blooded one. “He . . . he was right.”

“Stop.”

“My God,” she breathed, mind reeling.

“Ariana, stop . . .
please.
”

Her mind raced. If Dante was a Watcher and the records in the library were right, he was the descendant of a fallen angel.
The one they’ve been waiting for.