The Vampire's Retribution, page 19
As soon as she stepped out, her reflection in the mirror captured her interest. Almost twenty-eight, she had survived her mystical mission without a scar. How many times had he shielded her body from punches and claws? How many vampires had he staked when she found herself in over her head? How had she gone those ten years without a scratch?
Michael was the reason.
Sometimes they’d talk till dawn. Long winter nights meant slow walks through Central Park in the snow. Those memories were from years ago. Would they make new memories now?
She brushed her teeth and ripped the string and paper off what she had purchased in a trendy, upscale store—a silk nightgown. The saleswoman had already snipped off the tags. It was the color of French lilacs, flowing and soft. The tiny buttons on the bodice had the thinnest loops she’d ever seen. Simple yet elegant, and the shade accented her tanned skin in a sensual way.
Tonight, she’d be sexy. But Michael was comfortable with every facet of her personality. Sassy or tender, enticing or stubborn. Even through the solitude and sadness, the regret and remorse of those long years apart, love was always there. And on the rare occasions when they came face to face, Michael always turned away first, unable to shield his affection for her.
She came into the bedroom and stopped midway to the bed. It was empty. So was the carafe on the nightstand. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing him sitting tall and proud in the Queen Anne chair. He was bare-chested, which made her begin to blush.
“I didn’t know you were awake,” she whispered at his side.
“Surprise, surprise,” he answered in an even tone.
Without another word, he stood. His signature strides took him out of the bedroom. Those black silk pajama bottoms hung low on his hips, which had an egotistical sway, his gait always so distinctive.
She sank into the Queen Anne chair as if she’d just been punched in the stomach.
****
Michael entered the guest room in silence. Miles was deep asleep and snoring loud. Lukas looked peaceful in the dim light that formed a slim path from the hallway lamp.
He sat on the bed and brushed his son’s warm cheek. Delicate features, but his cheekbones were high as if there was more than a trace of Slavic blood in his ancestry. The innocence on his face was pure relaxation. Very different than mine, he thought. The vivid recall shocked him. Mother always said that as a little boy, my sleep-time expressions were angry, fierce as if lost in dreams of courageous knights and daring swordfights.
Curled on his side, his son hugged a pillow tight to his slender chest. In life, he had preferred sleeping on his side as well. How many other similar traits did they share? He wanted to find out. And knew he never would.
The father in him tried to envision all the missed years, the exciting “firsts” a child accomplishes. His first steps. His Christmas mornings. His first tooth or his first day of school. Three evil things took those treasures from me. Forced to give him up to Helena to keep him from their wrath. But they found him anyway.
No recorded history of Lukas Malone existed and there would never be one.
He placed one hand over his son’s heart. The strong muscle pumped evenly against his cool palm. Ours is a strong bloodline, he thought. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on his son’s forehead. The boy didn’t flinch, didn’t startle.
With Miles, he’d truly be safe for the first time in his troubled life. “I will always love you, little boy,” he whispered with the confidence of a caring father. He left the room in silence. As he strode down the hall toward the master bedroom his mood changed, thinking, now—it’s time to deal with Alana.
****
Michael entered the master bedroom and locked the door. Without a word he crossed the room to the two windows, hitched the heavy drapes behind their brass holders. With determination he opened the windows and flung back the shutter to the bricks. Moonlight flooded the room, the fresh May air warm and balmy from the sea. Alana remained in the Queen Anne chair. He could hear her heart beating fast. And he knew she was looking at him.
He kept his stance impressive, the silk pajama bottoms slightly billowing with the gentle breeze, his arms locked against his bare chest. Evil was close. But the blood mixture had worked its magic once again. Not an ache or a pain. Full use of legs and arms. Heightened senses and eagle-like vision. He was ready when they came for him.
He still hasn’t said a word. Of course, it would annoy her. Made sure his “I’m in charge, and I’ll deal with you when I’m good and ready” attitude came through loud and clear. He could tick off the minutes knowing how this would eventually play out between them.
He sensed her shiver before she cleared her throat. “Hello—I’m waiting, Michael. Aren’t you going to talk to me?”
In a low, cold tone he gave an abrupt, “No.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
“I am absolutely furious with you.” The glare he gave when turning in her direction appeared to startle her. And he heard the skip of a heartbeat as proof. “You knew Celia sent for him. Yet you said nothing. You thoroughly enjoyed giving me over to that sadist today. Yet you did nothing,” Alana opened her mouth to speak, which he quickly put a stop to with a low, “Do. Not. Dare.” He took a few steps forward in a menacing way. “I needed you here with me. Instead, I got thrown over that thing’s shoulder, taken down more than a few pegs, and forced to circle your living room like a toddler in a fucking playpen. It’s payback time, darlin’. You do not make decisions for me. Do you understand?” Another few steps and he stood over her. “You will never do that again.”
The expression on his face was purposely murderous, while she had a familiar “here we go again” expression on her face, just as she often had years ago when they bickered. And just like he had years ago, his voice sank in a stern warning, “Do not roll your eyes at me, little girl.”
Her captivating hazel eyes shot wide. “Oh, please… you know you needed this.”
“Don’t tell me what I need. You will suffer this decision.”
“Why? Because a little truthfulness hurts, and you’re acting a little touchy?”
“What did you just say to me?”
“Do you want me to repeat it for you?”
He leaned down to her. “You had better stop right now.”
She glared back, and he locked his hands on the chair’s arms, effectively pinning her in.
Her heart raced wildly. He saw her swallow before saying, “Or what? You’ll keep intimidating me with low growls? You’ll brood and act hurt? Insulted because I left you in the extremely capable hands of your very loyal empath? It worked, didn’t it?”
It was multiple question time. Which meant he was getting to her. Roughly, he grabbed her shoulders and ignored her wince. When he had her out of the chair and at eye-level he wanted to ravage her full lips, but instead kept her far enough away. “Perhaps your previous comments were unnecessary. Perhaps you need to rethink those remarks.”
She blinked and whispered, “Okay, okay, you win—you’re at full power and then some. Now let me go.”
Not a chance, he thought as he slowly lowered her. When her feet hit the carpet, he didn’t release her, eyeing the way the dark silk clung to her body, noticing the delicate buttons at her breasts. She looked stunning in it. Ready to be ravished, so it was time to edge up the heat. Perhaps, more than a little.
“My God,” she whispered as if out of breath, “You are powerful.”
If he waited any longer, he’d take her right on the carpet. Right here. Right now. His erection throbbed as his hands slid up the sides of her thighs. Her breath hitched. Her eyes closed. His finger flicked across her breasts and her head fell back. With one very calculated move, he ripped the nightgown right down the center. Buttons popped off in rapid succession and the soft silk slid down and off her lovely shoulders.
She gasped as his hand palmed her core, her arousal sweet and fragrant.
Her arms flew around his neck. The kiss he gave her was deep, his tongue penetrating her lips to dance with hers. He grabbed her thigh, lifted it to his waist as her leg hooked around him. His erection pressed against her through the black silk pajama bottoms, but he held her there, sliding his hand until it was splayed across her bottom.
She wriggled as the lurid kiss continued. He broke from her parted lips as her body bucked, and then he bent his head to take a nipple between his teeth. She sank her fingers into his hair, breathing hard.
But the erotic tease was not close to over. Two fingers slid into her, and she whispered his name in a shaky voice. He used his thumb in a most sensual stimulating manner. She gyrated and moaned. She was coated, slick with moisture. He wanted her so badly that he lifted her off the ground still keeping his hand in a most pleasurable spot and strolled to the bed knowing each move of his hips had her panting and bucking with her arms tight around his neck.
He laid her across the four-poster bed reaching down deep to keep himself under control. The way she writhed with her arms above her head as he stepped out of the pajamas to free his erection was a sight to behold. God, how he wanted her. Pushing her legs wide, he knelt on the bed directly between them and grabbed her luscious bottom. Craving her as never before, he brought her core to his mouth. Her arms flung wide. She fisted the sheets. The sounds she made revved his passion. His tongue took quick possession of her need. She squirmed against every slow lick. And when he grabbed her bottom tighter, she orgasmed.
Now she was ready, whimpering, breathing hard as her breasts heaved and her back arched. He angled his body over her hips and plunged his erection in deep. Quick and rough he thrust. Her legs came around him as he nipped at her breasts, and then lingered at her neck to graze her skin. He found her mouth while still rocking rough within her. She orgasmed again, her body quaking as she rode another wave of ecstasy. As she rode his release.
When her breathing slowed and her heartrate came down, he lay at her side.
She started to speak, but his finger came to rest on her full lips. “No words tonight, my Guardian,” he whispered low. “Your mystical strength is of no consequence right now. You will stay exactly where I put you.” When she tried to pull away, he held her firmly to his body with one hand splayed low at the heated edge of her sex. She was the one temptation he could not refuse. He adored her, but he would make sure she understood that he alone controlled his destiny. “I have told you before. I know what I need. I know what I want. There is no discussion.”
His finger inched down and just touching her had him hard again. He guided her knee up as she began to pant. And then he took her again.
His immense strength. The commanding way he possessed her. Every new erotic pleasure had her speechless. Alana lay in his tight embrace fully ready, willing, and able to submit again and again to his every desire. She belonged to him for all eternity.
Moonlight spilled through the open curtains. Warm sea air caressed her naked body. Every fiber of her body continued to quiver, yearning for his touch. If the heat of passion continued throughout the night, he could possess her over and over again in stubborn silence because in a way he was right. Their love needed no words.
Chapter 27
Apologies
The urgent siren of a police car startled Alana awake. Her eyes shot open. She was still tight in her immortal lover’s arms. Vivid recall of unrestrained passion…so many sensual pleasures. An erotic night heightened by his sexy aggression. The memory alone made her damp again. His raw power. The urgency of her need. His obsession took her to new, never imagined heights. When his body stirred behind her, she had to wonder what his first words to her would be.
His arm eased off, prompting her to softly call his name. No response came.
Edging away, she grabbed for the bedspread covering herself, clutching it tight. Sitting back on her heels, she studied his expressionless face. He couldn’t still be mad at her, could he??
Rolling onto his back, Michael supported his head with an arm. He waited for the aches and pains to begin. There were none. He felt more than strong—completely healed. As for his Guardian, he knew the expression she wore. Shallow breaths, hands clutched to the bedspread. The curious quirk to her lovely mouth. “Dear God, I love you so much,” he whispered. It was an absolute truth. His passion for her, his obsession with pleasuring her, protecting her, positively dominated his soul. She came into his arms resting her head on his chest.
“About last night—”
“I meant every word.” He grinned at the way she now clung to his chest. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.”
Looking up at him, she grinned as well. “Which lesson would that be?”
“I’m the master of my own destiny. Plus, I’m back and I’m strong.”
Her lips came to his, and the kiss was deeply aggressive. He loved it. Although it was very difficult, he changed his focus to the bright streaks of sunlight cutting through the room, not yet reaching the bed.
“I’d race you to the shower, but you’d win…only because I’d burn up on entry.”
“What if you gave me a head start?”
He let out a laugh, which was a rare sound. She sat up and stretched. The bedspread slipped off. Her beautiful body, supple yet firm—the physical sensation stirring a particular part of him. He groaned, and she reached for the bed cover again, but he quickly got it out of her hand.
The way her eyebrow arched produced a sensual growl and he said low and lusty, “I dare you to give those nosy neighbors across the street such a delectable eyeful.” She stood, a vision of loveliness. Her bend down caused his hips to jerk. She was that enticing. The ripped silk nightgown against her tanned skin hid very little, and she smiled sassy, sexy. “It conceals nothing, darlin’.”
Her slow sashay to the open window was bold. She unhooked the heavy drapes and secured them against the strong Amalfi sun. Then she dropped the ripped silk and stared at him.
“Are you going to bend down and pick it up again?”
“In your fantasies, buddy, in your fantasies,” she replied, a crooked finger over her lovely shoulder beckoning him. Of course, he followed her into the bathroom. He’d taste her and then take her again in the shower.
****
Alana’s unhurried steps to the dining room table didn’t reflect her mood. If she were a dancer it would have been pirouettes. She was beyond elated. The sundress, so soft and flowy accented her figure. The color of a sunflower against her skin was perfect. Her long curly hair spilled across one shoulder.
“Oooh…I totally like,” Celia said with admiration.
“Thanks, Celia B,” she said with a bright smile. “We both fell in love with it in Pisa, but I grabbed it first.”
“Ally knew it’d look great with her tan, Dad, and without a second thought, she put it on her credit card.”
Her adopted father gave a thin frown as he cleared a spot for her. Files, notepads, two laptops, and an assortment of empty breakfast plates littered the space. On her way to the kitchen, she closed the apartment door, which was ajar, happily lost in thoughts of last night and then headed to the kitchen. A fresh pot of coffee stood waiting. She filled a mug from the mug-rack, added a little cream because she liked it on the dark-side, and went back to join her family.
All eyes shot to Michael when he came out of the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. He wore the clothes Alana picked out with style. Snug black jeans and the black cotton shirt looked as if they’d been designed with him in mind. He had rolled the cuffs up the way he normally would. The classic Italian loafers—something he’d normally never wear—fit perfectly.
His gait was steady. The sure, characteristic strides so natural and familiar. He poured coffee instead of sustenance and joined them at the table, keeping silent and looking aloof.
Celia B’s jaw dropped as her green eyes shot wide. “You look amazing,”
A bland expression and a dismissive wave were all she’d get. “I’m not speaking to you. You brought Rambo here without asking me first.” Her guilt-ridden gaze slid back to a laptop in front of her.
“Are you threatening my daughter?” Miles asked, looking up from a worn, old manila file. “Because if you are, I will withhold the blood Father Giovanni delivered earlier. And I doubt you would want me to. You do look good, by the way,” he said in his dry way of speaking, “and I don’t mean the clothes.”
The researcher resumed reading, which was fine with him. He’d ignore the researcher as well. Although his need was not overbearing, he went back to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and reached for a glass container. Breaking the seal, he stood there and drained it. At first swallow, he knew it to be a blend of blood types. And it was enormously powerful as it absorbed into his system.
Returning to the table, he sipped at his coffee, scanning the clutter, and then focused on two things, which were disturbing. “Is something missing from the hutch? And why is there a hole over here on the table, my love?” His finger rimmed the wood. It looked as if it had been drilled. Both women simply stared at him, but Miles stopped reading. To Alana, he gave a slightly sarcastic smirk. “Were you, maybe, practicing a new cross-bow technique and missed the target—for once?”
But her gaze locked on Miles instead who said, “It’s best you tell him, honey.”
“Lukas can get very… uhm, angry.”
He leaned forward. “My son… did this to the table?”
“With a pen.”
“What? When?”
“A few days ago. You’re just back on your feet. Maybe you want to…let it go for now.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
“He has quite a temper,” Miles said as he continued reading.
“I specifically warned him about his temper, and I told him to behave.” He sat back, locking his arms across his chest. “Let me guess—it hasn’t been happening.”
“Lukas was very polite last night at the church,” Celia chimed in.
“You and I… Later,” he said with narrow eyes. He ran a hand over the marred antique. It looked horrible. But the silence in the room told him there was more. “He’s been giving all of you a hard time, hasn’t he? First the doctors and—the vase?” Alana gave a slow nod. “The table will be repaired.” Although he didn’t want to, he had to ask, “So what else has Lukas done?”
