Blood Destiny (40 page)

Jocelyn was too exhausted to fight anymore. The pain had finally won. She felt like death was near now, and she prayed it would come swiftly.

There was no more anger at Nathaniel, no more sense of betrayal or panic...no more begging for mercy. Only the sweet anticipation of an inevitable end.

The transformation obviously hadn't worked.

And curiously, she wondered why....

Why had her body refused the conversion?

As Jocelyn drifted in and out of consciousness—the pain now blessedly causing her to black out—she thought about Nathaniel, how painful his death would be, and she hoped it would be nothing like this.

She thought about Ida, her next-door neighbor, and the family she would never have. And she thought about her fish.

Who would take care of them now?

And then all at once, the room seemed to fill with colors, like an iridescent rainbow swirling through the air. Nathaniel seemed to move farther and farther away, slowly drifting out of her awareness, until she could no longer sense the rock-hard arms that held her or the powerful legs wrapped around her.

The jagged teeth embedded in her neck no longer felt as foreboding. Maybe the pain had washed away all of her sins—

did she really have that many sins?—so that when she did 378

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finally die, there would only be absolution awaiting her: forgiveness, peace, and eternal rest.

She laughed aloud, or at least she thought she did. How silly it all seemed. Maybe it had all been just some sort of crazy dream....

Vampires.

Werewolves.

A beautiful, sexy man who lived only for her...adored her...worshipped her.

Immortality.

Now that she thought about it, it had definitely been a dream. Then why did that damn fire in her veins persist on burning?

And then the strangest thing happened.

A bolt of electricity shot through her, like nothing she had ever felt before, and she felt an abrupt, undeniable release, like that of her spirit letting go of her body, moving all at once into a new host. This must be what death felt like: a sudden pop. A simple...letting go.

As the cumbersome weight of her human body seemed to disappear, oxygen poured into her lungs with extraordinary efficiency, and vitality surged through her veins like a flood of new life—invigorating her senses, awakening her mind. Her joints and muscles swiftly came alive: revitalized, energized, rejuvenated. Her heart began to pump fresh blood through her veins like a four-star general sending his elite troops into battle, arousing every organ and tissue to its highest state of renewed health.

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Jocelyn felt perfection in her body: staggering health and vitality...

And power.

Like she could leap buildings, or fly...run with the wind.

Maybe she was an angel after all.

Jocelyn didn't have to test her newfound strength to know it was there. She felt it in every cell of her body: the complete absence of illness, the total lack of vulnerability to disease, the utter removal of every toxin or pollutant that had been stored in her kidneys or liver for so long.

And mental clarity—

Her five senses were outrageously enhanced. She could hear the wind moving through the trees outside, the individual rustling of the leaves. She heard a robin singing more than a mile away.

And she could smell—

The spoor of cougars in the forest, the rich scent of pine, and the sweet aroma of wet earth beneath the river-beds.

She could even distinguish between the various spices and perfumes in a jar of potpourri that sat on Nathaniel's pine dresser. Pine smelled different than birch. And birch smelled different than aspen. Their needles and leaves made distinctly different sounds. There was a symphony to nature—

harmonious, glorious, beautiful.

Now that her fear was gone, Jocelyn could taste its residual evidence in her mouth; she could actually separate the flavors of fight versus flight. And she could acutely feel Nathaniel's body behind her: the perfection and contour of every lean muscle that touched her. She could hear his heart 380

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beating in his chest as clearly as if it were her own and she was listening through a stethoscope. And she could...identify...his thoughts. As if his electrical impulses were firing in her brain.

Am I dead? She tested the telepathic question.

She heard a huge sigh of relief, although the sound was not an audible vibration but a stimulation of the mind instead.

No, my love.

She felt his joy!

How are you feeling?

Mental telepathy: Holy shit! She could read his mind, and he was reading hers. They were talking without their mouths or ears. Speaking...and hearing...with incredible clarity. And the nuances were far more varied, far more precise than they ever could have been from using the inner ear. It was like receiving sound in high-definition.

Am I—

Immortal? Yes, you are.

Jocelyn could still feel the venom pumping into her body, restoring the last remaining cells and tissues, but it no longer felt like poison.

More like the fountain of youth.

Everywhere it flowed it brought health, vitality, and a powerful awakening.

Jocelyn closed her eyes and began to revel in the warmth and pleasure of the life-giving substance as her pain gave way to ecstasy...a high unlike anything she had ever felt before.

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Her head fell back and she moaned, her neck rubbing languidly against Nathaniel's mouth like a cat stroking its body against a leg. She was seeking the immense pleasure of the physical contact now, the sheer ecstasy of his fangs still embedded in her neck. She was drawing him in...wanting...needing...the way he felt: so good. So very, very good.

She wanted more of what he was giving her.

A low-pitched, feminine hiss escaped her mouth as the pleasure completely enveloped her, and she felt Nathaniel's body instantly respond with the same urgency—as a tremendous arousal centered in his groin.

Jocelyn purred like a kitten then, knowing just what buttons to push in order to entice the powerful male vampire behind her. Her mate. It was like she was inside of him now—

inside of his head, his heart, his skin—and the answering jerk of his sex confirmed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

You are feeling much better, my angel, he drawled.

She could feel him smiling.

Jocelyn reached behind her and stroked his glorious hair. I have never felt this good in all of my life.

Instinctively, Nathaniel bit down harder, his deep fangs sinking even deeper. Only this time, Jocelyn didn't fight him.

She didn't shriek or cry out in pain or try to stop him. Rather, she trembled from the pleasure of it and let out a deep, husky moan of satisfaction.

You like that? Nathaniel purred, sounding pleasantly surprised.

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She arched her back and rubbed up against him in answer.

Oh yeah, he whispered, his psychic voice growing hoarse.

You like that, all right.

Jocelyn's breasts suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Her nipples became hard and painfully erect as desire pooled like a river into her core, flooding her senses with liquid heat. She needed...wanted...with an urgency she had never felt before.

And she didn't want foreplay: not now. Not this time.

She didn't want to be teased or stroked or fondled. She wanted to be sated. She wanted to feel the full vitality of the ancient male behind her, in his most dominant state. She wanted him to take her like the powerful force of nature he was: to please her, invade her, make her scream...

To give her the full measure of gratification her body was demanding—to ride her hard—without the gentleness she had required as a human.

Sure, she would want that again—tenderness, compassion, slow, erotic lovemaking—but not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to experience her transformation; she wanted to test the limits of her new body, to soar to new heights of pleasure.

She wanted her Alpha male.

And she wanted him now.

Nathaniel read her like a book, their minds so completely merged, as if he had been with her all of his life. He unsheathed his claws and tore at the silk nightgown, shredding it to pieces, a glorious torrent of silk swirling around her.

Her panties went next.

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And then a strong, territorial growl of power surged in his throat as he reached around and lifted her by the waist, raising her up and off of the bed with one hard tug, forcing her to her hands and knees, his teeth still deeply embedded in her throat.

Jocelyn purred louder then. Her body felt like it was on fire. She lowered her shoulders and raised her hips in a tantalizing offering.

Nathaniel held her in place with one arm while using the other to free his throbbing erection from his pants. A feral growl escaped his throat as the rock-hard member came free.

And then he blanketed her body with all the stealth, power, and domination of a male lion, his jaw locking tight against her neck to hold her in place for his possession: to keep her rigid beneath him as he took her. He mounted her with a fierce groan of pleasure, stabbing deep and hard with one sure stroke, filling her in one smooth motion.

His invasion was rough...powerful...dominant, his possession aggressive. He pistoned wildly, surging deeper and deeper in and out of her heat, taking her higher and higher with every hard, pounding thrust. He ground his pelvis mercilessly against her soft, round bottom with a fierce, relentless lust as he moaned...his voice the husky growl of a predator.

Jocelyn gave herself up to the wild abandon of this new state of arousal. She gave herself up to Nathaniel's commanding, throbbing shaft as he drove her insane with pleasure. She backed into him, pushing hard against each impending thrust, desperate to have more...

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Deeper. Harder. Faster.

And he answered her every desire.

Nathaniel drove further and further into her core, taking her passion to a fevered pitch and holding her there. And during those times, when her motion got too wild—when she threatened to dislodge his teeth from her throat—he snarled a low hiss of warning and clamped down harder on her neck, sending a sudden burst of pain and pleasure through her body...a sensation so glorious and primal, she thought she might just die from the ecstasy.

Nathaniel was driving harder and faster now, his hips thrashing with primitive abandon, his wild hair falling down in magnificent waves of silk around her face, his sac slapping against her in a constant, wild rhythm.

Jocelyn sighed and moaned and purred. She thrust her hips back, taking all of him in, needing more of him, still. She had never wanted a man so much in all her life.

This man.

Her man.

His voice was a raspy groan in her mind: I love you, Jocelyn.

He whispered the words and then she felt his explosion, a powerful jet of hot, pulsing seed pumping over and over in a relentless stream of pleasure, spilling deep into her core, filling her sheath, and dripping decadently down her thigh.

Her own orgasm shook them both as her body simply fractured around him—her sex squeezing, milking, and kneading—her womb violently contracting again and again until she thought the orgasm would never end.

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Nathaniel held her close—slowly rocking her back and forth—gradually bringing both of them back down to earth.

When they finally stopped, their bodies were covered in sweat, their hearts were beating frantically, and their breath came in short, ragged gasps. Slowly exhaling, Nathaniel removed his fangs, allowing the last few drops of venom to seal the tiny wounds in her neck.

"You almost killed me, woman," he panted, rolling over to lie back on the bed.

Jocelyn spun around and glared at him with a fierce look of astonishment. "Excuse me?" she gasped. "Who almost killed who here tonight?"

"Oh yeah," Nathaniel mumbled, offering a sheepish smile.

"You almost made me forget."

The light that lit up the vampire's eyes was positively...breathtaking...his serenity so complete that Jocelyn might have almost believed he had sailed through the whole ordeal.

Almost.

Except for one thing...

As sinfully gorgeous as his smile was, it couldn't hide the tracks of his tears.

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Marquis Silivasi lay silently on the bed at the Dark Moon Lodge like a python—an ambush hunter—lurking as still as the night, patiently awaiting his prey.

Giving up control of his body to Nachari had been difficult.

He was not a male who easily relinquished power to another vampire, but it was either that or allow Nachari to make the kill. And Marquis refused to surrender that prize to anyone. Valentine Nistor was his.

Nachari had hidden himself in the small cedar closet just adjacent to the bed, leaving neither sight, nor sound, nor vibration in his wake to alert the enemy of his presence. Like a black widow spider, the talented Master Wizard hovered in the shadows, spinning a deadly web of deceit, orchestrating a fatal plan with the use of Marquis's body.

They were in the same rustic suite Valentine had used to violate—and ultimately murder—Joelle Parker the night of the lycan attack. The room where Joelle had become pregnant with the Dark One's twins. Now, forty-eight hours later, Marquis lay on the same bed, in the same position, exactly as Joelle would still be if she hadn't come to Marquis: if she hadn't found the strength and courage to get out of Valentine's snare.

Marquis could feel his brother's commanding energy as currents of power swept through his body like waves slapping against the seashore. He marveled at Nachari's sheer determination and skill as the young wizard not only cloaked 387