Last Vamp Standing (26 page)

But as she began to pull for Dante, channeling the energy wide open like a faucet, she realized she could handle it all.

And feed it directly from her body to his.

It seemed to be working. Dante’s eyes fluttered open, then closed once more, pinching shut. His heartbeat returned to its normal thumping rhythm—it still called to her, thank the Ever After. And his lacerations healed as if he’d never been struck at all.

Relief washed over her, drawing a deep sigh from her chest.

“You knew what was happening all along, yet you stayed and fought. You did this for me,” Ariana whispered, tracing the line of a fading scar. “You braved them, some of the most powerful elders Black Moon has ever seen, so you could be with me without hungering for my soul. You’re crazier than I thought. Sexier, too, in a brave, knightly kind of way.”

A deep flush warmed her cheeks as she made the last pass over his stomach and grazed her fingers over his ripples of muscle. He flinched. Like she’d tickled him.

Good. At least his nerves were firing properly. He’d be waking soon . . .

She continued up his sculpted chest, where scars from his lashings were fading to a silvery pink tone. She drew wide lines up to his neck. He twitched, jerking his head to face her.

“If you’re awake, you brat, you better say something.” She flicked him in the chest. If Dante was repeating the last healing session, she wasn’t in the mood. He’d really scared her.

By healing his external wounds had she somehow healed his internal ones as well? Since Ruan didn’t know what he did to Dante, there was only one way to tell.

“Dante?”

He lay still as stone, sprawled over the length of her entire tub. It was a miracle he fit. Well, his calves hit the back ledge and his feet dangled over the side, but still.

“Dante,” she shook him.

Damn it, she couldn’t do this. He should’ve been waking up by now. Something was seriously wrong. Having him beat up for a damned rush of adrenaline had to be the dumbest idea she’d ever had. She was stupid to think she could just fix him up so that he’d be good as new.

She’d gone too far and couldn’t do it alone anymore.

“Ru—” she began to call out, but finished with a gasp as Dante snatched her by the arms and swung her over the top of him.

His eyes were flat black. Satiated. Sparkling with renewed vigor. His arms snaked around her back as she settled on top of him. Heat enveloped her, radiating from his body to hers.

“Yes, I’m awake,” he growled, lifting his face closer to hers. “And I’m starving.”

“But I thought that the fight would—”

He shushed her by crushing his lips to hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, hungry, possessive, teaching her the real meaning of raw heat.

Maybe she was in the mood after all.

Chapter Twenty-Six

A
S STRENGTH FLOODED
back into Dante’s body, he squeezed Ariana against him. Flush. Tight. As close as they could be without becoming one.

Although he’d just gotten the shit kicked out of him by a dozen elders, Dante felt right as rain. His senses were working properly and then some. He could see Ariana. The way her ponytail had flopped to the right side of her face and brushed against his chest. The rosy tint of her cheeks. He could smell her natural lavender aroma mixed with rain and a hint of copper. Her breath came out in pants, rough and nervous. And the touch of her skin against his—good Lord. If he didn’t get her undressed in a millisecond, he was liable to burst.

She gazed into his eyes. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes. You successfully arranged for your friends to kick my ass.” He palmed her rear, pressing her hips against his lap, and groaned when the pressure fanned his desire. “How long was I out this time?”

“Just long enough for them to carry you upstairs.”

Better than the last two-day hiatus he suffered.

“So where are those friends of yours now?” He kept his eyes on hers although he could see well into her bedroom. It was empty.

She smiled, stroking the ridge from his neck to his shoulder. His skin chilled, buzzing from the contact. “They left, but Ruan’s outside the suite waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want to leave. I think he thought that you—”

“Would wake up hungry and pissed off?”

“No.” She lowered her voice. “He was genuinely worried about you. I think he thought you wouldn’t wake up at all.”

“I was more worried that it wouldn’t work,” Dante said, tucking a honey-brown strand of hair behind her ear. “That I got my ass handed to me and I’d wake up feeling the same draw to you, hearing the same voices.”

She seemed to stop breathing. “And?”

“You have my word . . . whatever happens tonight, tomorrow, forever, I won’t pull from you.”

He stroked the back of his hand down the pale of her cheek. And kissed her lips as lightly as he caressed her skin. When he pulled back, kissing her nose, her cheek, her eyelids, his lungs refused to fill with air.

He loved her.

He’d never loved another, but he knew the feeling like he knew Ariana’s eyes glinted with hints of yellow in the sun and bronze in the shade. He knew he loved her with every beat of his heart. Every sinking of his soul when she wasn’t near.

He could easily live with Ariana in Black Moon, Crimson Bay, it didn’t matter where. They’d banter the rest of their lives, keeping the fire alive in and out of the bedroom. He’d let her read to him from any of her favorite books in her library. They’d stare up at the painting on the ceiling and argue about brushstrokes before making love on piles of loose papers.

Yes, he decided. He could live with Ariana for the rest of his life.

But he’d felt that way before with Sway, hadn’t he? He’d been certain he could be happy by her side until the end of her days. But he’d also known from the moment he’d met Sway that he could live without her. It’d break his heart in two—and it did—but he’d survive.

From one kiss of Ariana’s lips Dante knew, with more conviction than his body could give, that he couldn’t, under any circumstances, live without Ariana.

And
that
difference, knowing he could live with her, but not without her, is what had his heart jerking in his chest.

“Where’d you go?” she whispered against his mouth. “Come back.”

“I’m here,” he said. “And I always will be.”

“Mmm.” She moaned into another kiss that melted every muscle in Dante’s body. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Moving slowly, cherishing every lazy draw of her tongue against the inside of his cheek, Dante slid from beneath her and rose to his knees. Chest to chest, hip to hip, he worked her mouth while tugging her dress from beneath her knees, over her hips, and over her head.

She pressed against him, releasing a terrible growl from his chest. She smiled, then kissed him deeper, emitting her own purr to match. His hands traveled her body, memorizing the softness of her hair, the soft curves of her waist, the way her breasts heaved with every jagged breath.

It was all too much.

He had to have her. Touch her. Watch her mouth drop open as he came inside her.

As he slipped a hand between her legs and found her drenched with want, Ariana clawed his back, dug her fingers into his hair, and grabbed a hold of the straining shaft pressed against his stomach.

He hissed at the contact, ready to sex her and drink from her vein in the same glorious moment.

The instinct to suck her blood made him dizzy. He shouldn’t feel like this. He didn’t care much for blood. Then why was the desire straining his muscles taut, fighting against every other impulse in his body?

While he was drugged up on Nightshade, he could feel the slow surge of voices pressing against the back of his mind. Now that he was completely and utterly satiated from the fight, they were in the clear.

His hunger didn’t have anything to do with the energy flowing from her soul. This time, he was hungry for her body, her heart and soul.

She stroked him slow, squeezing the thick head of his shaft, then slid her hand down the length of him. He stilled, unable to focus on anything but her touch, her tongue, her invigorating scent.

“Like that, do you?” she asked, stroking him again, harder. “Tell me what else you want.”

“I want . . .” he hissed as she bit his bottom lip. A charge of bloodlust slammed into his rib cage, an odd sensation he’d never get used to. “I want you. Any way I can get you.”

She pulled back, stretching against the arms he’d looped behind her back. Then she raised both arms above her head and untied her ponytail. A waterfall of honey-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and framed her face.

His chest pinched as he threaded his fingers through her thick mane of hair for the first time.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, feeling his spirit well. “You’re an angel . . .
my
angel.”

“Well that makes what I was about to do seem even more impure.”

“What were you about to do?”

Smiling deviously, Ariana spun around. Her movements were tiny and awkward, and for the first time since they kissed, Dante realized they were still in the over-sized bathtub. She’d completely taken him from this place, from the cold porcelain bottom of the tub to the heights of heaven.

And when she bent over, placing one hand on the tub to brace herself and the other between her legs, Dante thought he’d died.

“Am I still an angel?” she asked over her shoulder, raising a sexy brow.

With one hand resting lightly on her back, Dante pressed forward and entered her on a groan. She was slick, drenched in heat. And he was drawn tight, every muscle in his body on the verge of cramping and releasing, then repeating the same erotic cycle.

“You’re mine,” he said and thrust deeper.

She was tight. Stretched to the limit. Arching her back and rolling her hips with each thrust to take more of him in. She was
perfection.

As his fangs hummed and his balls seized, Dante reached around her hips and brushed his fingers through her silky folds. She arched in response. Circled her hips against his hand.

He plunged deeper. Thrust harder and massaged her faster. He timed each drive of his hips with a swirl of his fingers in her heat. And when she bucked against him, hissing in fierce, desperate pleasure, Dante grinded his back teeth until his jaw ached.

Control slipped. Every thought in his head was replaced with mind-numbing sensations. All that mattered was his shaft and her core and the soft tugs pulsing against him. She was smooth. Soft and warm.

As his fangs hummed, Dante collapsed, bending over the top of her. Wet and openmouthed, he kissed the smooth slope of her neck. Smudged kisses along its gentle curve, up to her ear, then down again.

“Take me,” she breathed, writhing her hips beneath him, urging him on. “Take all of me.”

With a guttural hiss, he sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck. Blood surged into his mouth as he pulled long, heavy draws from her vein. Her blood was surprisingly sweet, metallic with a hint of tang. It was different than anything he’d tasted before.

It was beyond addicting.

He had to have more.

She arched back and sucked in a short breath as he drove into her, crushing his hips against her backside. He was reaching deep. Robbing her breath. Milking her ecstasy for one more ride.

It was too much to take in at once. Between the sweetness of her blood wetting his lips, sliding down the back of his throat, and the warmth of her core as it began to pulse around him once more, he lost it.

He sheathed his fangs and his cock into her in one ramming stroke. She burst at the seams, exploding beneath him, around him, bucking as the orgasm quaked its way through her.

Dante’s vision went red. Fuzzy and blurred by the blooming scent of her orgasm, the intoxicating taste of her blood, and the blanket of silky-smooth skin rubbing against him. He’d never experienced anything like it before. It was sensory overload. Pleasure to the fullest.

Was she feeling this, too? Were the sensations as breathtaking for her as they were for him? With each whip of her hips that drew on his shaft, she told him
yes.
And even as he punched the wind from her lungs with increasingly powerful strokes, her body spoke wonders.

His muscles tensed and his gut clenched. Sensations coiled fast and hot.

“Let go, baby,” she said. “Give it to me.”

He lost it. Thrust deeper. As deep as he could go. Sucked from her flesh harder. Pulled as much as he could with each long, hazy draw.

And when the sensations became too much to bear, love and lust collided with bone-crushing force. On a throaty moan, he emptied himself into her. All that he had, he pumped into her core, leaving nothing behind.

But as much as he gave, he took.

The rush flowing into his mouth was heavy and full, tasting of sex and adrenaline, spicy and exotic. He couldn’t stop. And Ariana didn’t want him to. Long after he’d released his seed, she whimpered, leaning her head to the side, elongating the vein stretching beautifully up the side of her neck.

So he took what she offered. Body and soul, blood and flesh. He clutched at the tiny curve of her waist, reached around her stomach and held her up so he could suck at the vein that he wanted—needed—so badly. More than he’d ever realized.

Time stood still.

Her blood flowed into his mouth slower and slower, trickling across his tongue, coating his throat. He never knew it could be like this. Never knew that someone could taste like love, complete and full and honest. Maybe it was just Ariana. Or maybe his feelings were tainting his taste buds.

He sucked with relentless pulls until a wave of dizziness crashed into him, dislodging his veins with a single blow.

Reality fell into place around him as sudden rushes of blood pounded through his ears. Ariana had gone limp in his arms. Her neck was pale and swollen where his fangs had penetrated.

He unsheathed himself from her warmth and flipped her over, carrying all her weight in his arms. She was lifeless, her head lolling onto her shoulder, her face porcelain pale. And every muscle in her body went limp. Bloodless.

“Ariana . . .” He kissed her softly, desperately, willing color to return to her lips. “Ever After help me, what have I done?”