Authors: Sharon Ashwood

Tags: #Fiction > Urban Fantasy

Scorched (24 page)

BOOK: Scorched

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. . . Oh, and yes, he was. He slid out and slid back in, farther this time, stretching and filling her more than felt possible. She moved to ease him in, instinct telling her when and where to push. The sensation blazed all conscious thought to ash. She pushed again, finding his rhythm.

A longer thrust pierced her, took the maidenhead that had been frozen in time along with the rest of her. She let out a rough cry but kept pushing, yearning, doing everything to engulf him inside her.

Her heart, long still, shuddered out a beat, and then another. Keeping time with his thrusts. It was a brief, temporary tryst with life, driven by extremes of emotion. He was bringing her back to life.

She hurtled toward the next crest. She tried to hold herself back, but the momentum was too huge, too urgent.

She clung to Mac, digging her fingers into his back. His skin was burning hot, shining in the candlelight. His scent rocked her senses, the sound of his lungs, his driving pulse loud in the Castle’s silence. It was too much.

He thrust again and her body clenched around him. He let out a sound that said as much as he had conquered her, she had conquered him. The power of it staggered her. At that moment, she ruled this massive demon-beast.

She felt a scream rising inside her, tickling between her aching breasts, then low in her throat. When Mac gave a last heave, the thrust drove her into the soft bed, hot, hot life spilling inside her. He shuddered, his face a mask of lust, the dark smell of him swamping her. She lost control, pleasure brutally slaking a thirst buried for the whole of her long, dry existence.

At last, the scream ripped out of her, a sound of raw triumph.

By the time Mac slept off the sex-induced-haze, he was ready to begin again. Apparently if he wasn’t stuffing his face, his body moved on to Plan B with equal drive.

Constance was curled against him, her cheek pressed against his chest. It was odd, because she was so still. No stirring. No breathing. No way to tell if she was awake or not. One hand was hooked around his waist, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

It felt good to have her there. It had been far too long since he’d woken up with a woman. The night had given him even more pleasure than he’d expected. Snow White had hidden depths.

He looked down without moving his head. The view gave him a slice of her face: one brow, the bridge of her nose, a scoop of dark lashes. Constance was right where she ought to be, where he could keep her safe.

He’d lost his humanity, but he’d gotten laid. There had to be some cosmic meaning there. Or not. He didn’t feel like picking holes in the first good thing that had happened to him in a long, long time.
Talk about a silver lining
. Thinking about it was making him horny.

Constance lifted her head, her gaze tentative. “Hello.”

He grinned. She looked sleepy and tousled and terribly cute. “Hello.”

She folded her arms on his chest, resting her chin on the prop they made. Her bare arms were slender, but he could see the muscles in them. She’d worked hard when she’d been a human woman.

They looked at each other for a long moment. He could see all the usual post-lovemaking questions written on her face, and for some reason it made him happy. If she cared enough for all the usual womanly fretting, that made what they’d shared real. “You belong to me now,” he said, figuring that covered all the important points.

“I do?”

The way she said it, both relieved and resigned, made him stop and think. She came from a time of slaves and servants. “I don’t mean that I literally own you.”

She looked perplexed.

Caveman was messing with his words again, making them come out like he was some knuckle dragger fresh from the How to Discover Fire seminar. He tried again. “I mean anything you want, anytime you’re in trouble, I’m here.” He wound a finger into her hair. It ran over his skin like dark, heavy silk. She was the sort of beauty anyone would be happy to have on his arm. The sort that would stop a room cold.

Her gaze searched his features. “You’ll rescue Sylvius?”

“I keep my promises.”

“Good.” The word was heavy with more nuances than he could guess at. Maybe she wasn’t used to people keeping their word.

“Once that’s over with, you really should come see my world sometime,” he said. “You’d have fun.”

She hesitated, objections, then uncertainty, filling her eyes. “I’m sure that would be nice.”

“I’d make sure you had a good time.”

The look she gave him was pure female. Her thigh shifted against his, severely distracting him. “It couldn’t have been better than what we just did. I never imagined . . .”

He put his finger on her lips. “There’s more ahead.”

She blinked at that. “What I meant to say is that you were kinder than I deserved. I did try to bite you before.”

Mac laughed at that. “True, but you didn’t this time.”

“I was busy. I’m only half a vampire. I think that made it easier to hold back. Plus, you’re not really food anymore.”

“Maybe.” He wound another piece of her hair around his fingers, using it to draw her in for a kiss.

“You were good to me,” she said.

“You were good to me.”

They kissed, taking their time over it.

“You left me that book about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” she said.

“Did you like it?”

“I did. I liked everything about it.”

“Like what?”

“It wasn’t just about one or two people; all the folk fit together. It reminded me of so much of my old life. There was the wise sister and the foolish sister, the pretty one and the one you just knew would never make a match. And the men had fine families, too, although they weren’t altogether what I would call easy sorts to get along with.”

Mac was enchanted. “And were you the pretty sister, or the wise one, or both?”

“I was the baby straggling behind the rest.” She smiled ruefully. “All my sisters were wed. Only the last of the boys were still at home. I wished I would’ve been older, when there were more of my family in the house. Still, it was grand at celebrations when everyone came home. That’s what I’ve always wanted—everyone around the table, eating and laughing.”

Such talk of domestic bliss was enough to make most men bolt. Mac was too comfortable to move.

“What about you?” She blinked away a strand of hair that was hanging in her eyes, tangling in her lashes.

He brushed the hair away. “There was just me and my mom.”

“Just you? No one to share the chores?”

“It’s not so bad when you live in the city.”

“All the same, lucky for your mother you were there!”

“So she liked to remind me. She’s gone now.” He paused. “But say, I brought you another book. I’m not sure what it’ll be like because I picked it up in the grocery store. It has a pirate on the cover.”

“A pirate?”

“With no shirt. He’s going to get a sunburn.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “He’s daft! Even a sailor can afford a shirt. I’m not sure about your pirate.”

“But you’ll give him a try?”

She gave him a wicked look. “If you insist. Although he’ll have to cut a fine figure to shoulder past Mr. Darcy.”

Mac rewarded that look with a kiss.

“Do you know . . .” she said, trailing off into an uncertain sigh.

“What?” He touched his finger to her chin.

“I want you to know there’s a place you can always lay your head.” She shimmied up his torso until her face was poised above his. “Wherever I am. Sometimes it helps to know where you can go when everything else turns upside down. I’ll always take you in.”

“Would you?”

She hesitated. “You don’t have a family standing behind you. Everyone needs a family. You’ll get lost if you’re all alone.” Her eyes were serious.

Just like that, she had turned the tables on him. He had promised her protection. Now she had just done the same. The solemn look on her face said she meant it.

Mac felt a pang of tenderness in his chest. She’d found his soft, marshmallow center and sunk her dainty fangs right in.
Crap, I am lost
. But he didn’t care. Not one little bit. A dark yearning stirred inside, but it was dark and sweet at once, like melting chocolate.

Constance survived in a violent world. She might be small, but she had to be tough to have made it this far. Clever and stubborn enough to keep her values in one piece. That moved him.

Logic said the bond they had formed was instant and intense, the kind that happened during wars and disasters. Perhaps there was something supernatural to it, too—the result of the room, or his new body, or her vampire nature.

None of that mattered. He knew one thing with conviction, something that no sorcery could ever change. He wasn’t letting Constance Moore slip out of his life. In the most unlikely place of all, he’d found a forever kind of woman.

Chapter 16

“Y
ou did
what
to my sister?” It was the closest Holly had ever come to a shriek.

Alessandro was fairly sure he’d made a tactical blunder. “She’ll like it in the Castle. There’s lots there to kill.”

“When did you put her there?”

“Right after she tried to stake me. And bit me.”

Holly’s angry eyes seemed to fill her face. “What. Time. Did. It. Happen.”

Alessandro balked. The housekeeping spell Holly had laid on the vacuum cleaner suddenly wound down. The motor died with a sickly wheeze.

“Um. This afternoon.”

Holly clenched her teeth. “She’s only human, Alessandro. She doesn’t even have her witch’s powers anymore. She’s my big sister. She used to read me stories.”

He sighed, but it was an angry sound. “What should I have done, Holly? She tried to kill me in my bed. She damned near succeeded.”

Holly dropped into the nearest chair, covering her face with her hands for a moment. He knelt in front of her, sorry that he’d snapped, and captured her hands, one by one, and drew them from her cheeks.

Her eyes were moist, catching the lamplight like stars. “She’s my sister. How could you do that?”

Oh, no
. He’d made her cry. It was the first time. A heavy, bleak feeling threatened to crush him to the carpet. “I’m so sorry.”

He could have torn out his own heart then and there.
How could I be so stupid? Vampire logic isn’t human logic.

“I don’t know what you should’ve done,” Holly said, her voice thick with tears. “I don’t blame you. You had to do something, and I don’t have any answers. I could kill her myself.”

Confusion washed over him. How could he fix this? “I can go look for her. Bring her home. Right now.”

“No!” She squeezed his hands. “If she doesn’t get you, the guardsmen will!”

Alessandro blinked, his male pride flattened to road kill. “I can look after myself,” he said gently. “I was the queen’s champion swordsman. I’m still pretty good with a blade.”

“Of course you are.”

“I’m in and out of there all the time.” Long enough to toss someone in, at least.

“I know.” Holly closed her eyes, and fell silent.

The house was silent but for the ticking clock. A car whooshed by outside. From the kitchen, the cat was crunching kibble. They were home sounds. Sounds Alessandro had begun to treasure.

Holly swallowed. “I can’t bear to risk you right now.”

“But Ashe . . .”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do about her. She’s not the same person I remember, the one I want her to be so badly. It’s like I keep trying to fix her in my mind, fit the old Ashe over the new one, but it doesn’t work.”

“Do you think the sister you remember is inside her somewhere?”

“Goddess knows. I think an awful lot has happened to her over the years, and I know she blames herself for our parents’ deaths.”

“I think she’s angry,” he offered.
Was the stake the first clue?

“Whatever. I don’t want her back in this house. Who knows what she’d do next.” Holly let go of his hands and wiped her face dry with her fingers, clearly exhausted. “But we can’t leave her there. Sweet Hecate, I can’t believe my family is fighting like this.”

Alessandro put his hand to her cheek. As always, she felt warm to him, hot and vital. “I’m part of your family?”

She looked at him, her brows drawn together. “Absolutely. The most important part.”

“Thank you.”
Then are you really afraid to introduce me at the reunion? Does it bother you that I can’t give you children? Will you still love me when you realize the cost of living with a man who is so different? Who has no family of his own?

He knew some of his doubts were Ashe’s poison at work. Alessandro forced himself to let them go. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just—let Mac deal with it.”

“
Mac?
” That was the last thing he expected her to say. “What can he do that I can’t?”

Holly shrugged, trying to look casual and missing by a mile. “Finding a missing person is kind of, y’know, cop stuff. He’s trained to talk to crazy people, and Lore said Mac’s going into the Castle, anyway. Plus, Mac owes me.”

“And he’s expendable if Ashe decides to take him out?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why is it okay to risk him?”

“Have you talked to Lore today?”

“No.” He intended to tear the alpha a new one about the hounds’ poor guard duty performance. He had a feeling the hound, like any smart dog with a mess to its name, was making himself scarce.

Holly seemed to slump even more. “Mac’s . . . well, from the sound of it, the demon caught up with him in this other weird way.”

Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. “How weird? In what way?”

“Physically.” Holly told him what Lore had told her.

Unable to sit still any longer, Alessandro got to his feet and started to pace. “I was just beginning to trust Mac. It seems I was wrong.”

BOOK: Scorched

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