Caressed by Shadows (Rulers of Darkness Book 4) (5 page)

“They took you from me,” he rasped.

He brushed his thumb over her lips as lightning streaked the sky. His gaze roamed her face, traveled down the slender line of her throat, and lower. Her breasts rose and fell beneath her tight leather corset, the perfect swells taunted him.

He whispered a curse in old French. Sonya was tempting. So goddamn tempting. Her eyes shimmered bright gold as she gazed up at him. And her lips, so pink, so warm and soft, they beckoned him. He knew their taste and their softness, the knowledge had haunted him ever since they had given into the madness that disguised itself as passion all those months ago. Falcon knew her creamy skin was smooth as silk. He knew that even though she was tall and slender, she had a lush body and curves that would bring any man to his knees.

He stifled a groan when she wet her lips…in anticipation?

Unable to resist, he bent his head, nuzzling her neck. Inhaling deeply, his eyes drifted closed as her lilac scent mixed with the sweet, intoxicating aroma of her arousal.

“Falcon,” she whispered when he pressed his lips against her throat, just above her erratically beating pulse.

Damn, this was dangerous, a game of life and death, or honor and loyalty versus desire and betrayal. Falcon knew he should step back. He had no right to touch her, to kiss her, to have her. She was a Queen and he a Black Knight. Yet, he could not bring himself to break away. The luscious heat of her body called to him, her lust assaulted his senses.

His thumb still stroked over her lips as his free hand fell from the wall to rest upon her shoulder, pinning her in place. He flicked his tongue over her throat sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Sonya’s eyes drifted closed, her head rolling to the side, giving him better access. Her hands came to his biceps, her nails biting into the leather of his jacket. Her hips bucked against his thigh.

Falcon fingers massaged her shoulder then moved down her back.

Sonya winced as he brushed passed her wound.

The subtle sign of pain sliced through the drugging haze of need that clouded his mind.

Falcon pulled away. Sonya fell back, flattening her palms against the wall, her claws scoring the brick as she fought her desire and the maddening urge to snatch him back.

She blinked up at him, her golden eyes reflecting his own denied desire. Her lips were parted as she drew in rapid breaths. Her wet flaxen hair circled about her face.

God, he was looking at Aphrodite.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath. Lilacs and lust misted the cool air that filled his lungs. There was another scent, faint but unmistakable.

He stepped back into the storm. The chill of the rain was like a hard slap as the water cascaded over him, chasing away the warmth of her body.

His gaze dropped to his hand. Red coated his fingers tips. Blood. Her blood. How could he have not noticed?

“You’re injured.”

In a flurry of movement, he spun her around and pulled down her jacket, revealing her left shoulder blade.

“What the hell,” Sonya snapped, twisting away. Scowling she strained her clothes.

Falcon’s hard gaze narrowed with bone chilling menace. “You’ve a bullet in your shoulder.”

“Impressive. Is this your definition of ‘laying low’?” Sonya asked as she twirled about the luxurious suite.

Falcon kicked the door closed. “We should get that bullet—”

She gave a dismissive wave, silencing his concern. “From a drafty cell to a glamorous, five star hotel,” she continued as she glanced over to the kitchen, complete with creamy marble counter tops and stainless appliances. The living space was enormous with vaulted ceilings. Two white sofas faced each other in the center, while a big screen TV seemed to hang independently of the wall. The picturesque window provided an unobstructed view of the city and the Thames River.

“I needed some place I knew was secure and did not have much time to search,” he said, dropping the rain soaked duffle by the door, it land with a hard, wet thud.

She nodded. He did not have to clarify that he had been busy searching for her.

“This hotel is owned by Gabriel Erhard. It is safe and,” he waved a hand to the three laptops he had arranged in a line on the desk, in the small reading nook off to the right of the entry way, “I’ve got complete access to their security system.”

“How did you manage that? Did you hack them? Or,” she turned to pin him with a mock accusatory stair, “did you use your powers of the mind to gain control of their system?”

Falcon held back his smile. “Neither.”

She shrugged, and turned to the glass coffee table that stood between the twin sofas.

“Well, I’ve heard you’ve got mad skills with computers. And who knows, you could have developed some type of mind control.”

She paused before the window, trying to redirect her gaze from the rest of the room, but her eyes kept shifting to the raised dais and the pristine white adorned, oversized bed. That particular piece of furniture dominated the left side of the studio style suite.

She turned her back to the room and faced the windows. Closing her eyes, she forced the erotic fantasies of them tangled in the Egyptian cotton sheets, their limbs wrapped around each other, embracing, their lips…She swallowed back a longing sigh.

Think about something else. Anything else,
she told herself. She quickly replayed his words in her mind and found her subject.

“Gabriel Erhard?” she asked, her voice more husky than she would have liked. “Isn’t he Dorian Vlakhos’s friend? The outcaste in America?”

“Yes,” Falcon replied. “He left London about 200 years ago, but he’s been able to maintain control over this portion of the city.”

“That must infuriate the Red Order,” she added with a silent cheer. “But what makes you think this location is secure?”

“They would be fools to cross the border. They would be severely outnumbered and out gunned. It would be a suicide mission.”

“They may think it’s worth it, if they want me badly enough.”

He nodded and shrugged out his jacket, allowing it to land atop the bag. He crossed the entry platform and descended into the living area. Sonya sensed his every move, though she remained with her back to the room. She fought to keep her eyes on the view, but gave up when his reflection began to play across the glass. She watched him cross to the island in the kitchen.

Falcon liberated the guns, before removing the hostler. He double-checked the safety, before setting them on the counter. Next, he began emptying his pockets, methodically laying them out, displaying the various weapons in a neat line. His collection consisted of daggers, throwing stars, and tiny explosives about the size of a pin cap, but she knew they could easily level the building if not a city block. He pulled out the tool kit he used to pick the lock of her cell.

Sonya bit her lip as he peeled the damp shirt over her his head, revealing tight, golden muscle. A fresh wave of heat rushed through her, electrifying every nerve. Her hands circled into fists as she willed herself to remain still. She watched with ravenous eyes as he balled the material and tossed it toward a laundry basket next to the closet. Was there a washer in there? She decided she did not care. With a shiver she silently prayed his pants would be the next item to hit the floor.

He called her name. The perfection of his rough voice was unlike anything she had ever heard.

He filled a bowl with hot water and grabbed a fresh dish towel. “We need to get you patched up.”

He rounded the island and crossed the room to a line of black duffle bags that rested against the wall by the bed. Bending down, he unzipped one and removed a first aid kit. “It might be easier if you lay down.”

Afraid her voice would betray her desire, she said nothing as she crossed to the bed. Falcon presented her with his back as she peeled off her wet and ruined trench coat. She skillfully removed her corset, years of practice made perfect, then climbed atop the mattress. Her limbs shook as she crawled across the comforter. She chided herself when she realized she had been silently willing him to turn around.

Laying on her front, she bunched the pillows up beneath her chest, propping herself up to make it easier for him to remove the bullet. The excess fabric also concealed her breasts, not that she was shy, but right now wasn’t a good time to be tempting the knight.

Never is there a good time to be tempting him
, she corrected.

Falcon waited for her settled before returning his gaze to her. Sweat had broken out across his brow as he had forced himself to remain still while she removed her clothing. Now tension coiled through him, making his muscles ache and his cock hard.

Sonya gathered her tangled hair and swept it aside.

Falcon cursed.

“Is it that bad?” she asked.

Falcon set the bowl and clothe on the side table.

He was unable to stop himself from sweeping his gaze down her lean, slender back to her gently flaring hips.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to focus on his task.

“The muscle hasn’t even tried to work out the bullet,” he said.

“Fantastic,” Sonya muttered, her voice thick with sarcasm. She sucked in a deep breath, held it for a count of ten then exhaled. “Go ahead,” she sighed. “I’m ready.”

Falcon blinked. Sonya had been a warrior before she became queen; in fact, she had been the first female Black Knight and persona guard to her predecessor, King Gudmund. The words strong and tough did not seem to even begin to describe her. Nor did the words beautiful or gorgeous.

“I want to apologize in advance for any discomfort I may cause.”

Sonya’s pulse kicked up when Falcon settled his weight down beside her on the bed. His hands were warm, strong, and sure as he assessed her wound. He dampened the cloth and whipped away the dried blood on her shoulder before he reached for the first aid kit.

Sonya didn’t flinch when the cool, sterile metal of the tweezers grazed her skin. Nor did she wince as Falcon began to work. Pain was no stranger to her. Over the centuries he had learned to welcome the sting and the sweet coppery aroma of fresh blood. Only now, that scent was causing her fangs to sharpen. They dropped from their sheaths and for one maddening moment she fantasized spinning around, clasping Falcon’s arm and biting his wrist.

A longing moan of desire and hunger escaped her lips.

Falcon’s hands stilled.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Sonya shook her head. She wanted to tell him he hadn’t hurt her. In fact, she wanted to hurt
him
. She wanted to sink her fang deeply into his vein—She waved a hand, motioning for him to continue as she buried her face in the pillow.

Reassured, Falcon resumed his task. With a light sigh of relief, he located the bullet and carefully extracted the metal ball.

Falcon held his breath, waiting for Sonya’s wound to begin to heal. Her delicate skin remained red, swollen, blood trickled down her shoulder blade in thin rivulets.

Against his will, his gaze followed one line; it flowed to the side and curved downward toward swell of her breast. His fangs lengthened and were sharp against his lip as he imagined following the trail with his tongue.

Shaking his head, he stood. Needing to put distance between himself and temptation.

“It isn’t healing,” Sonya sighed disappointedly. She pushed herself up, holding the pillow to her chest.

“No,” he paused considering the cause. “Feeding is—”

“I’m fine,” she said coming to her feet.

“We’ve all felt the pangs of hunger. But bloodlust is entirely different. It is maddening and we can’t have you attacking the bell hop,” he teased.

Sonya shrugged brushing her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve no doubt you can keep it together, but you need to feed.”

Her golden gaze flickered to his throat. Lust slammed into him like a freight train, stealing his breath and turning his world upside down.

God, she was close and they were alone. No one knew he had rescued her. There would be no risk of discovery. He could take her here. Now. The bed was just steps away.

His shaft swelled and pulse spiked with anticipation. He knew she could sense his desire just as he could hers. He could also sense her rising hunger. She wanted to take his vein and he wanted—no, he needed her to.

He groaned as his cock throbbed as fantasies of them in bed began to play in high definition in his mind. He would grip her hips as she relentlessly road him. Her breasts would press against his chest as she leaned down and sliced into his artery with her razor fangs.

Sonya’s eyes shot back up to his and again, the world stood still. Breath refused to return to his body, his heart remained still as he waited for…nothing.

He felt the brutal lash of reality like a barbed whip. Turning his back to her, he raised a hand to his chest, foolishly attempting to shield his heart from the anguish of disappointed hopes and a love that could never be.

Sonya dropped her gaze to the floor. Sexual tension crackled in the air.

“Falcon.”

He closed his eyes. Her voice was soft and laced with forbidden desire. She stepped toward him. His entire body tensed. Her shoulder rubbed the side of his bicep.

“Thank you for helping me with my shoulder.” She wet her dry, pink lips. “And thank you for coming after me.”

Falcon slowly turned back to her, his silver gaze shimmered. “You needn’t thank me, Your Highness.” He reached out, brushing the back of his knuckles over her jaw.  “I’d always come for you.”

She nodded. “I know you take your vows seriously.”

“I’m sworn to protect my king and the nobles of my clan, your disappearance fell outside my jurisdiction, but…I had to find you.  I had to bring you home.”

His gaze swirled with determination, devotion, and longing. Her heart clenched as the emotions overwhelmed her senses.

He stroked her cheek, his powerful fingers gentle against her flesh.

“I’d fight for you. I’d gladly die for you.” His voice lowered, growing rough. “I’d do anything, you must know that.”

She did know. He had left his king and clan to come after her.

She wanted to tell him she would do the same. She would abandon her throne to search for him. The thought of his disappearance caused her to flinch. She would be maddened with the need to find him, to see him again, to hold him, to kiss him. To tell him she loved him, that he had held her heart captive for nearly two centuries.

Resisting the impulse to turn toward his hand and his fingers, she stepped to the side and said, “You were right. I didn’t have time to wait for eventually.”

With that, she brushed passed him and headed for the bathroom. It took all of his will not to follow her, not to rip the ridiculous pillow from her grasp, and not to pin her to wall of the shower and claim her.

He exhaled a curse.

“What the hell did I get myself into?”