Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire, page 23
As he kissed her, he moved, dragged her to the other side of the spring. He was lost in the headiness of the moment, felt like a drugged human who would die if he didn’t get his fix. When his back hit the bank, he gripped her waist and lifted her so he could see her breasts in the shaft of moonlight. Nostrils flaring, he stared. She was so goddamn perfect. Full and round with a hint of slope that would lead him straight to heaven. He growled, calling out to her jaguar, warning the protective feline that her true mate was hungry and would be fed.
He lowered his head and took as much of the soft flesh of her breast into his mouth as possible. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, and keened into the cold air. He released her and just nuzzled the wet, heavy globe until he heard the cat purr. A grin hit his mouth and he flicked the bud with his nose once before suckling it again, first with his tongue, then gently scraping at the tip with his fangs. Above him, Dillon moaned and bucked her hips, and the steam around them began to scent of her, wet heat and hungry veana.
Gray’s cock pulsed against his belly, ached, begged him to lower Dillon right onto his shaft, but he wasn’t ready for dessert yet.
Shit, he hadn’t even had dinner.
With a snarl of demonlike possessiveness, Gray whirled around and placed her on the very edge of the bank.
“Open up for me, D,” he commanded with rough hunger. “As wide as you can.”
Dillon whimpered from her perch and slowly spread her thighs. They shook. Goddamn, she shook.
“Not nearly enough,” he uttered wickedly. “My tongue aches and my throat is so dry, baby. I need to drink you down.”
She tore in a breath, wiggled her backside.
“Feet up now, baby, knees bent. That’s right.” When she was completely exposed to him, he reached around and grabbed her ass, slid her forward. “This is how I like it.” He watched, his skin on fire, as pearly moisture leaked from her cunt. “Baby, you’re crying for me.”
“Oh God, Gray, please,” she begged above him, dropping her hands behind her so he could have even more access.
Gray lowered his head and licked her.
Just once.
One lap from cunt to clit.
Dillon cried out.
The sound that echoed within him, rumbled through him was all pain, pleasure, and decadent torture. “You have the sweetest goddamn tears in the world, D.”
And then he buried his head between her legs and feasted on her sweet syrup. The taste of her went straight to his cock. The thing jumped and pulsed against his belly, beading with precum, but he told it to fuck off, to be patient, and he drank deep until her swollen clit called to him. Raking his tongue from the opening of her body straight up between her drenched pussy lips, he circled around the hot bud, then suckled it into his mouth.
Dillon quaked and writhed in his arms, but he held on, suckled until he felt her clit swell against his tongue. Then he released one hand from her buttocks and brought it to her clit. While his fingers feathered the pulsing bud, he fucked her with his tongue.
“Oh God, yes! Gray. Please. I can’t take any more.”
But even as she said it, he gave her more. His thumb working her clit, tugging at the swollen flesh, dragging it up and down as his tongue went so deep he had to open his mouth wider, let his fangs rest on the head of her pussy.
And then he pressed them down gently, the hard, sharp tips just piercing a millimeter of her flesh.
It was like an earthquake against his mouth, against his tongue, as the walls of her pussy clenched and soaked the back of his throat in cream. Fuck yes! God, this veana was his, every inch, every drop. Dillon bucked and cried out as she came, and Gray just let her ride his mouth and tongue until the waves of pleasure receded.
He could’ve stayed there all day, camped out between her trembling thighs, licking her nice and slow and gentle until she came again, but Dillon wasn’t having it. She wriggled down into the water, her skin pink and dusted with sweat. Or was it mist from the spring? Either way, he wanted a taste as she rode a different part of his anatomy.
But before he could get his hands around her waist, she turned and gave him her back. “Fuck me, Gray. Please.”
Gray tensed. Her hands were spread, her legs too, and she was leaning over, using the bank to hold her weight. All he had to do was slip inside and take what he wanted—what his dick was screaming for.
He took a step closer, his thighs against the backs of hers, his hands itching to wrap around the curves of her hips.
“What’s wrong?” she uttered, sudden tension in her voice. But she didn’t look at him, didn’t even glance over her shoulder. “You don’t want me.”
“Shit, D.” His voice was gravel rough. “You feel my cock against your back. It’s ready to explode. I’m ready to explode. But this isn’t cutting it. You love me and I love you, and yet you’ll only let me fuck you from behind.”
Her head dropped forward. “What’s wrong with that?” she nearly whimpered. “Most males would be very happy for a fuck—”
“Stop right there.” He grabbed her hips, but only to turn her around to face him. His rock-hard glare slammed into her soft, green one. “When are you going to get it? I’m not most males. I’m not looking to screw you and walk, fuck you, then watch you walk away.”
“I know that.”
But he didn’t believe she did. Hell, he was pretty sure she believed the opposite. His hands went to her face. “How do I get you to look at me?”
“Stop,” she uttered, trying to pull free.
As much as he hated seeing her struggle, both with him and with her insides, Gray knew this had to happen or they couldn’t be, couldn’t go any further than fucking like animals. “How do I get you to face me, let me hold you, let me look into your eyes as I kiss you, as I move inside of you?”
Her eyes were wide; her fangs scraped at her lower lip. “You don’t.”
“I want to look at you, goddamn it!”
“And I just want you to fuck me!”
“What is it? What stops you from having even the smallest bit of intimacy?”
“I let you into my body,” she cried. “That’s pretty damn intimate.”
He put one hand, the very one that held her mark, on her left breast. “I want to get into your heart, not just your cunt, Dillon. Christ.”
Her lips trembled. “I can’t.”
“Why?” he rasped, his guts ripping apart inside him.
“I can’t. I won’t be able to…It won’t work…”
He had a pretty good idea what was going on here, the fear inside her, the past creeping between them. He wasn’t going to allow it. “What won’t work?”
She tried to turn toward the bank. “I’m done here.”
“No.” He wouldn’t let her go. This was it. They gave themselves over to each other or they gave up.
She glared at him. “I’m a hundred times stronger than you, Gray! I could snap you like a fucking twig!”
He held her firm. “Do what you gotta do, baby.”
“You won’t hold me against my will!” she screamed. “EVER!”
Pure misery and purer love wrapped around Gray in that moment. She wasn’t perfect, and shit, he was far from perfect, but there was love there, a long-term and consistent fight within both of them that kept this flame alive.
Slowly, gently, he eased a wayward hair from her face and curled it around her ear. “If you need to beat the shit out of me to release some of what’s holding you hostage, then do it.”
She broke then. Crumpling in his arms, she cried, “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you just run like everyone else in my sorry motherfucking life?”
He was really going to make the male responsible for this scream in agony. He kissed her cheek, the crease of her eye where one sad tear tried to escape. “No one ran from you, D. Take a good look back and you’ll see it was you—you who did all the running.” His eyebrow lifted a fraction. “I’m not saying there wasn’t a good reason. But it’s done. No one is ever going to hurt you again. Stop running, baby, and stand still with me.”
“Oh, Gray…”
He picked her up and gently placed her down on his shaft, but instead of pumping inside her, he pulled her against his chest and just held her to him. Held her strong and supportive until he felt her limbs relax, until her breathing slowed.
Dillon felt as though she were being carried. Not by his body or his arms, but by his love for her and his unflinching belief in them as a couple. Her insides warmed and her cunt squeezed around his shaft and she held on tight. God, she wanted to believe in them too, so much. If she could just let go now, right now, and trust that this male she loved wouldn’t let her fall.
Leaving the safety of his warm chest and steady heartbeat wasn’t easy, but she lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
He smiled. “There’s my baby.”
One of his hands remained around her while the other traveled down to cup her backside. It was the most difficult, most wonderful, most gut-wrenching feeling to look into Gray’s eyes while he began to slowly thrust inside of her.
She felt impaled, both in her core and in her unbeating heart. Dillon, the Beast, the mutore, the one who survived on shame, loved and was loved.
“Don’t close your eyes, D,” he said with fierce, possessive hunger. “Not for this ride.”
She nodded, quivering in his arms as heat spread within her.
“Keep looking at me. Even when you come.” He kissed her, suckled her lower lip. “Especially when you come.”
His words sent another shock of heat to her core, and her cunt clenched mercilessly. She wanted to come so badly, and yet she didn’t want this intimacy, this intensity between them to end.
Water jumped and sprayed around them as Gray ground his cock inside her, circling his hips, pistoning inside her. But his eyes never left hers and his arms remained strong around her.
“You belong to me now,” he growled possessively. “Never forget that.” His nostrils flared and he looked like he could eat her raw.
He bent his knees and thrust deeply, battering her cunt again and again until Dillon lost her breath completely and gripped his back, his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
“Oh God, Dillon,” he uttered, his gaze fierce and his voice strained. “Baby, you’re sucking me so deep, from the head to the base of my cock—I’m drenched in your cream.”
Shaking, on the verge of exploding, Dillon wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and bucked her hips, moving with him, taking blow after blow as she held his gaze and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I love you, D,” he whispered, so pained. “I love you so fucking much I think I’ll die from it.”
“No,” she whispered. “You’ll live. Just like me, with me—over me, night after night, your eyes on mine.”
Gray grabbed her hips, settled his cock deep inside her, then executed a series of wondrous, breath-shattering, earth-shaking blows to her cunt. One, two, three—until Dillon cried out. Shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wide, she lifted her chin and howled her release. Then Gray too fell, delivering one final thrust before he answered her call with one of his own.
It wasn’t her first fuck, Dillon thought through the haze, through the heat.
But it was the first time she’d ever made love.
19
As Gray carried her out of the water and up to the house, one emotion after another slammed through Dillon. Love, connection, anxiety, questions, doom. She hated the onslaught, wanted to run from it, but she wasn’t going to do that anymore. She’d made a promise—to him and to herself—when she’d looked into his eyes and allowed herself to be taken.
She didn’t go back on her word.
She wasn’t that veana anymore.
It was dark inside the cottage when Gray burst through the double door, but the half dozen skylights in the ceiling welcomed the twilight inside. Gray didn’t slow. He moved through the main room and into a bedroom that was utterly beautiful and all him. White, gray, and black, uncluttered and clean lines. Dillon couldn’t help but smile.
Under the pale light of the young moon streaming in through another set of six wide skylights, Gray placed her on the large bed and crawled in with her. He covered them both with sheets and blankets, then gathered her close and kissed her until her skin warmed and dried.
“I want this,” he whispered close to her ear. “Not just you, but this.”
Dillon couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her leg around his waist and squeezed. “Me too.” God, more than anything.
“Then I need you to tell me, D.”
Her throat tightened painfully, and a current of unease moved through her. She didn’t need to ask him what he meant.
“Just me, okay?”
She released her hold on him and rolled onto her back.
Gray lifted his head. His eyes were gentle, but firm. “Remember the love thing.”
“Don’t remind me of that,” she said drily.
“Fuck you, D. I’m going to remind you of it every goddamn second until you tell me what happened that turned you inside out and backward.”
He stared down at her, waiting. Only Gray Donohue. No one ever spoke to her the way he did. No anger, but the fierce heat of love and care. Was it possible to have a relationship, the real kind, when one person kept a part of herself hidden? She’d never even thought about it until this male dropped into her life. She’d never wanted to think about it until he’d placed her down on his cock, forced her to look at him, deep inside him, and made love to her.
What was she so afraid of? she wondered. That he would be disgusted by her, ashamed of her—that he’d think she brought it on herself? No. That wasn’t Gray.
She took a deep breath and a huge leap of faith, then reached up and brought his mouth to her temple. “Do it.”
“Like this? Through the blood?” His breath was warm on her skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, her muscles tensing, her head dizzy. She couldn’t say the words…all those words. It was too much. “But you have to promise me something, Gray.”
“Anything, D.”
She swallowed. This was it. No going back. “No matter what you see, how it makes you feel, you won’t go after anyone.”
He sighed.
“Promise me,” she said.
“All right.”
She braced herself, fisting the sheets at her sides, and whispered, “Go.”
Gray bit hard into Dillon’s temple and, with the confidence of someone who had accrued much experience navigating memories, he fast-forwarded through the near present, through the past several decades, slowing down only when he started to see a younger and younger veana. Then he stopped altogether when he saw her surrounded by her young Beast brothers and a face Gray recognized as the vile demon among vampires, Cruen.
For the briefest of moments Gray just stared at the face of a young Dillon as she kicked a blue ball back and forth with her brothers in what looked to be a basement. No windows, cement floor, brick on the walls. But they didn’t seem to mind the lack of light and decor. In fact, they were all laughing, enjoying themselves, but none more than her. Gray’s heart pinged with longing. That long tawny hair swinging around near her waist, those bright and happy hazel eyes, and that smile. When had he ever seen her smile like that?
He heard her moan softly, and the sound kick-started him into action. He propelled himself forward, clip after clip, image after image. Fight training, blood samples, more play, less play, a swim in the river—
He stopped. He’d nearly run over it. It was the swim that made him slam on the brakes. Fear, shame, and unimaginable pain clung to this memory as it hadn’t with any of the others. In fact, the memory almost resisted his call to view it. Gray had never experienced such a thing, such a brick wall.
Fighting to keep the swell of anger that was threatening to rise further, he pushed back hard, a few frames at a time, until he had the beginning of the scene.
Which, no doubt, was the beginning of the end for a happy, laughing young veana.
Dillon was inside a room, a laboratory. There were no windows, so he couldn’t tell if it was day or night—just that the room was empty, save for her. She was standing over a metal table, looking into a microscope. She appeared to be around fifteen, and the way she was handling the placement and care of the slides she was observing made Gray think she was far more serious at this age than she had been as a carefree balas playing with her brothers.
“It’s late.”
Gray’s heart stuttered as Dillon glanced up and smiled at the guard in the doorway. He was built like a short linebacker, with round, dark eyes that seemed to take in everything. It was clear that Dillon knew him well, that he was one of Cruen’s best and most loyal sentries.
“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” she told him. “Just checking a blood sample of mine.”
He walked into the room, came to stand beside her. “Can I see?”
“Sure.” Dillon felt no fear, no strangeness at this action. She trusted him. She had no reason not to.
He looked up, grinned at her. “Pretty blood for a pretty female.”
Something quick and strange moved within her, but she cast it aside. “Thanks. I can turn it off now. I should be done for the night.”
“I wish I could turn it off,” he said, his gaze moving over her face, then down her neck to her chest.
Dillon stepped back. She wasn’t a fool. She was a virgin and trustworthy, but she wasn’t a fool. “I’m going now. My brothers are expecting me.”
He grabbed her arm, and when he did, Gray felt Dillon—the one beside him in the bed—grab his arm too.
“Your brothers are tearing into a deer carcass right now, sweetheart,” he hissed, his fangs descending as he yanked her to him. “I can’t stop myself. You are just too sweet, too damn ripe.”
Terrified now, Dillon tried to push him away. “Let me go.”
The male grinned, reached for the split in her blouse and tore it all the way to her navel. “Fight me all you want. You haven’t the strength to deny me yet.”
