Rose's Rapture: Lords of the Night, Book Two (10 page)

Anger surged through him as Lazarus stepped into the crowd. He didn’t know this fellow, but if he did not get away from his woman he’d find himself encased in stone.

Abigail’s attention remained on the stranger. “She has taken ill and has left for the evening.” He heard her say.

Lazarus hesitated. She was talking about Lady Rose Carlson. He’d seen the courier deliver a note to Abigail and had sensed Hamish leaving. He knew she’d arrived with Rose. And since he hadn’t seen Rose since the vampyre left, Lazarus had a pretty good idea of what had transpired. He took a step forward to get a better look at the gentleman conversing with Abigail. Lazarus didn’t immediately recognize him, although he had all the earmarks of being a peer. Lazarus had made a habit of knowing the bloodlines in this part of the world. This man did not appear to be from among them.

The man said something else to Abigail and she paled. That was all Lazarus needed to see. He sent a request mentally to the musicians and then stepped into their private circle.

“I believe this is our dance,” he said, inclining his head to Abigail.

“Yes, yes, of course,” she accepted readily, which told Lazarus that she was relieved that he’d come to her rescue.

His gaze locked on the man. Although he appeared neatly dressed, his clothes weren’t of the latest fashion. There were hints of wear when there should not have been. A ring on his small finger caught his eyes. The jewel looked to be a topaz surrounded by a family crest, but Lazarus didn’t recognize the symbol. He inhaled. The stench of London filled his nostrils. Definitely not from these parts, which begged the question, why was he here?

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lazarus said.

The man shook his head. “No, we haven’t.” He made no move to remedy the situation.

If the man wasn’t going to abide by social etiquette, then neither would Lazarus. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said, meeting the man’s eyes.

“Lady Abigail and I were having a private conversation. Perhaps you can come back later.” The man glared in an attempt to ward him off. Fool!

Lazarus allowed his true nature to show inside his mesmerizing depths. The stranger staggered back a step. Abigail glanced his way to see why. Lazarus’s expression remained passive as he probed the man’s thoughts to find out what his intentions were toward Abigail. Instead of the usual lust filled fantasies, Lazarus encountered a jumble of fear and rage. He broke off contact. He needed to get Abigail to safety before he approached the man again.

“As I was saying, I believe this is my dance,” Lazarus said, then turned to Abigail to offer his arm. “My lady.” He put emphasis on the word ‘my’, his gaze never leaving the stranger. He led Abigail out onto the floor. “Who was that?” he asked casually, while feeling anything but. “He didn’t offer his name.” Warnings were going off in his head. He may be a lover by nature, but in battle Lazarus was a fierce warrior.

“I-I don’t know. He didn’t come right out and say.” She frowned, shaking her head. “I was sure that I had asked.”

“It’s all right. I’m sure you did.” He patted her hand, his unease growing. The only reason someone would withhold their name was if they had something to hide. “What did he want?” He didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t been able to read the man. Strong emotions had a tendency to overpower thoughts. Lazarus spun Abigail around their first turn on the floor. Their feet moved in unison liked they’d danced together for centuries. He smiled at the realization and pulled her a little closer.

“He wanted to know where Rose went and who she was with, but wouldn’t tell me why.”

Lazarus tensed. It was as he had thought. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” she said, shivering in his arms. “Well, I did mention that she had been speaking with Laird MacDougall, but that was all. There was something unsettling about him.”

“I felt it, too,” he said, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

“I should warn Rose,” she said.

“Hamish will allow no harm to come to her.”

Suddenly, Abigail seemed to realize where she was and what she was doing. “I should not be dancing with you.”

Lazarus’s brow arched. “Why ever not?”

Her face flushed and she glanced away. “You know very well why,” she whispered.

“As I recall, it wasn’t this sort of dancing we did the last time we were alone.”

She gasped and looked around to see if anyone had overheard his reply.

Lazarus didn’t bother to tell her that no one would hear a thing, unless he wished it. One of his many
abilities
that he used without thought.

Abigail colored. “You should not speak of it here. You should not speak of it ever again.”

He laughed. Lazarus couldn’t help it. Seeing Abigail flustered and adorable warmed his stone-cold heart. “Why would I not speak of it, when I know we’ll do it again...
tonight
?”

Abigail’s eyes widened and she swayed on her feet. He caught her easily, sweeping her down the ballroom.

“We shall do no such thing,” she said.

Despite her protest, Lazarus didn’t miss her quick intake of breath. Even now, her pupils were dilated and she’d moistened her lips in preparation for his kiss.

His head dipped until his mouth hovered above her ear. “Are you thinking about me slipping between your thighs, Abigail?”

She tried to pull away, but he refused to release her.

“No,” she murmured breathlessly.

“Then perhaps you’re recalling the feel of my cock as I rode your body into oblivion. I can still hear your delicious cries of ecstasy, ringing in my ears. If I close my eyes, I can almost taste you on my lips.”

Her breathing had deepened, causing the soft mounds of her breasts to rise and fall dangerously. “Stop it, Lazarus. You are a wicked, wicked man.” The words came out in a soft rasp, sounding more like an invitation than a plea. Her blue eyes shuttered closed.

“And you love me for it,” he said, then whirled them around the dance floor and right out the door onto the terrace. The cool air felt good against his heated skin. “Open your eyes, Abigail and tell me you do not want me. Say the words and you’ll never see me again.”

Her lashes fluttered as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “I do...want you.”

Triumph flooded Lazarus, soothing his warrior’s soul. He felt victory from the tips of his pointed ears to his talon-covered toes. He walked her deeper into the shadows and then immediately took her into his arms. “I want you, too,” he said a second before kissing her senseless.

* * * * *

Abigail waited in her bedchamber for Lazarus to arrive. She’d told herself that she wouldn’t welcome him back into her body, but dismissed the idea the second he’d swept her into his arms. It was like she couldn’t get enough of his touch, of his taste. Even now, his hunger beat at her, feeding her own needs until she didn’t know where he left off and she began.

There was something incredibly unnatural about the cravings she had for this man. The rational part of her feared the power he held over her body, while the woman in her relished it, wanting more.

She heard the flap of wings outside her window. Abigail ran her hands over her arms at the sudden appearance of gooseflesh. What was that? She started to move toward the window to see, but something stopped her.

“Where are you?” she murmured into the darkness.

“I’m here,” he said from behind her.

Abigail spun, her entire body racked with tremors. “H-how did you?” She glanced at the door then back at the window. “I didn’t hear you. Nor did I see you enter.”

A small smile played at his lips, but sadness tinged his eyes. “I’ve had much practice at being silent.”

Her heart clenched in her chest and Abigail had the overwhelming urge to remove the pain she saw etched in his features. Tonight, Lazarus appeared older than she recalled, almost tired.

“Are you well?” she asked.

He gave her a genuine smile at the question. “I am now that I’m in your presence. I fear I need it to exist,” he said the words flippantly, but something about them seemed ominous to her.

“Come to bed, my lord. I have need of you, too.” Abigail reached out and grasped his hand. Their fingers wove together in perfect formation, much like they moved and danced. She’d never met anyone like this man and knew she never would again.

Abigail released him as they reached the bed. Lazarus reached for her, but she stopped him short. “Tonight, you’re mine. Let me pleasure you.”

His expression changed and his eyes warmed under her perusal. Abigail felt her heart do a little flip in her chest as she slowly removed his shirt. Her fingertips burned upon contact. Lazarus remained rock hard beneath her touch, yet sizzled with an unseen fire.

“Your beauty amazes me,” she said, running her hands over his chest, before leaning forward and planting an open-mouthed kiss upon his flat disc of a nipple.

His breath hissed out of his lungs as she teased him with her tongue until he stood rigid beneath her mouth.

“You taste like nothing I’ve ever encountered.” Abigail brushed her cheek over the spot she’d suckled, before reaching for his breeches. “Sit down,” she said, as she turned and pushed him onto the bed.

She made short work of his boots. His pants and stockings followed with a quick yank. Abigail moistened her lips as she stared at his growing erection. The plum-sized head looked nearly purple in the candlelight. A drop of liquid oozed from its center. She lowered her head to taste it, taste him.

Her eyes closed the moment her mouth enveloped his shaft. Marble and velvet blended seamlessly as she swiped her tongue along the length of him. Abigail could feel his muscles tense, but he made no move to stop her.

Lazarus fell back onto the bed, his lungs straining to take in air. Abigail began to suck, drawing her mouth up to his tip, then slowly gliding back down to his root. If she did that too many more times, he’d explode. He ground his teeth and prayed for strength as she increased her speed.

His fists balled into the covlet to keep from reaching for her. She’d told him she wanted to bring him pleasure. She didn’t realize that simply her existence here brought him more pleasure than he’d ever hoped to find.

“Please, Abigail.” He groaned as she smiled around his cock, but didn’t stop her movements.

The suction increased and Lazarus’s vision narrowed on her mouth, taking in her full lips stretched around his aching shaft. The veins bulged as he seemed to grow incredibly harder under her ministrations. He fought to hold off. She sucked harder.

“Damn!” he cried out, he cock pulsing, while her throat worked to swallow his release. Lazarus couldn’t seem to catch his breath or to think. A red haze fogged his vision. Abigail’s lips remained locked around him, milking ever drop of his essence from his body. It was the last thing he saw before oblivion took him.

Lazarus came awake at the feel of a feminine form sliding next to him, while stroking his cock. He blinked as he tried to recall where he was and with whom. For a second he feared his mind had finally snapped and that he was imagining the sensation, then it all came rushing back. Had he passed out from pleasure or had he shifted to his true form. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain human flesh. For the love of Zeus, please let it have been from pleasure. He caught a glimpse of Abigail. She didn’t appear to be frightened. Relief flooded him. Lazarus swept her into his arms.

“Not this time, my love,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

She giggled and tried to bat his hand away. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come back to me. You sleep like the dead.”

He flinched. She didn’t know just how deeply he could sleep and would once again, if she didn’t accept his true self. Lazarus knew that meant exposing his secret. What would happen when he did so? Would she scream and run away? Would she turn her back on that special something building between them? He forced himself to relax. “I suppose that’s what happens when a little minx tries to suck the life out of me. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very talented mouth?” He tightened his grip and prayed she didn’t answer that question. He didn’t want to hear about her other lovers. The thought made him insane. Lazarus moved, so he could flip her onto her stomach.

“You are the only man I’ve lain with since my husband’s death,” Abigail said quietly, so quietly that he’d almost missed her confession.

Lazarus stilled as powerful emotions welled within him. Although he knew the admission brought her pain, he could only feel pleasure from the revelation. His kind was possessive by nature, territorial to a fault. They couldn’t afford not to be. Not when it meant the difference between being anchored to this plane or encased in stone for eternity.
Damn the gods and their wicked curses
. He didn’t want Abigail to ever seek out another. She was his as he was hers. The sooner she realized this, the sooner they could settle into a life together.

“Open for me, Abigail.” He grabbed pillows and propped them under her abdomen to raise her hips.

Shyly, she spread her legs.

“Wider,” he demanded as he caught first glimpse of her moist opening. Pink and puffy like a spring flower her dew covered petals glistened in the flickering light. He fought back a groan as he ran one finger along her slit, tasting her essence. Ambrosia exploded the second his lips made contact. He would never get enough of this woman.

Lazarus hunched down until his head was level with her sex. He inhaled her musky aroma, salivating at the thought of what was to come. Starting at her forbidden entrance, he ran his tongue down her length until he encountered her erect clit. With a gentleness he didn’t realize he possessed, Lazarus slipped the bundle of nerves into his mouth and began to suckle.

Abigail’s bottom rose in the air and she squirmed to get away from him. Lazarus growled deep in his throat, sending vibrations shuddering through her body. His hands locked onto her thighs, spreading them wider, exposing her forbidden rosette to gaze. He would have her in every way before the night gave way to the day. He nipped her flesh. Abigail cried out, her body shimmying and shaking as her first release caught her by surprise.