Elusive Hero: Invitation to Eden (Vampire Queen Series Book 12) (27 page)

At her bemused assent, he made a noncommittal grunt. “So you’re kind of like David Banner and The Hulk.”

“Or Jekyll and Hyde.”

“A much prettier version.”

That coaxed a smile from her. “It surprised me, that I could do it,” she admitted. “But I truly think Lady Lyssa is responsible. Her words—serve me—let me serve as a Dominant, rather than pretending to be one, which is what I’ve done most my life. Long ago I started telling myself bedtime stories, fantasies to help me cope, knowing when I woke I’d have to be what a vampire is expected to be again. It’s why I never let my servant sleep with me in that hour before dawn, though I know that hurts Fran, the lack of intimacy.”

He cupped her face. “That’s the hardest thing about all of it, isn’t it? Fran.”

She put her hand over his large one, her fingertips sliding into the spaces between his. “Yes.”

As hard as it was to maintain appearances, even knowing her life depended on it, her treatment of Fran distressed and drained her more than anything else. It was right in her face, underscoring her situation. Having someone in her household so obviously devoted to her needs, wanting exactly what Kaela herself wanted, and having to hold it out of Fran’s reach, knowing how it felt to have that part of herself denied, thwarted, put cracks in Kaela’s heart. So many times when she’d seen that combination of hurt and puzzlement on Fran’s face, she’d wanted to explain, but until a vampire third marked her, Fran’s first responsibility was to the Council. Kaela would never put the woman in the position of dangerous divided loyalties.

It was why she’d kept hoping all along that Lyssa would retrieve Fran from her service for another worthy vampire. But aside from those occasional formal reminders of her willingness to let Fran go, Kaela’s guilt had kept her from pushing hard for that, not wanting to let Fran think in any way she’d failed her Mistress.

Garron was in her head, so she didn’t have to fill in the blanks that words couldn’t cover. He kept holding her, touching her, forming a cocoon around her. She liked how strong and big he was, straightforward as that sounded.

“I guess I’m here because I couldn’t handle them being bedtime stories anymore,” she said softly.

She felt a little self-conscious about it, something that seemed silly in the face of everything she’d revealed to him thus far. “Lately it seems that one hour is the best part of my day, and my craving had become so strong…”

“You started to worry about how much longer you were going to be able to maintain.”

Over the years, the need to release, to surrender, had become so overwhelming, she’d gone through periods where she’d tried not to give herself to those pre-dawn fantasies so often. Yet at dusk, she couldn’t control her mind when she first surfaced from sleep. At dusk, all she wanted was to wake curled in a Master’s arms, hear his sleepy command to spread her legs so he could put his mouth or cock there as he desired, as he locked her wrists in cuffs and made her his slave in all ways…

“Sounds like that could become my favorite bedtime story, too.” Garron slid his hand up to cradle her skull. Tilting her head back, she trusted his hold as she reached up to brush her fingers over the ferns. He kissed the top of her breasts, let his tongue play between them.

“I haven’t done this. Not in so long.”

“What’s that?” He could follow the words in her mind, like subtitles on the screen, and he thought her voice sounded like velvet. His pleasure about that hummed through her blood. God, she loved them being in one another’s minds. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d been all these years. Yet she knew what a miracle this was. This place, this male. It wouldn’t have worked if Garron had been a different kind of Master or man.

“Simply enjoyed a lover. Being with him. Talking as if there was all the time in the world, as if time has stopped, just so we could spin this out and enjoy it forever. There’s a magic feeling to it, like floating in clouds. I had it for such a short time, and it was so long ago, I shouldn’t remember it, but being with you, it seems so vivid.”

“I’m sorry you lost him, Kaela. And the life you planned together.”

Her chin dipped, her eyes coming back to him. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his face, the scars. “I’m sorry for the losses you have suffered in your life, Garron Rand. And the pain that made you take refuge here so you could heal. Have you healed?” she asked softly.

She could tell it surprised him that she’d figured Eden was a haven for him. But it shouldn’t. Intuition, being two steps ahead of everyone around her, was part of what had kept her alive. Him as well, she expected.

“Yeah,” he said briefly. “You can slide into hell so fast. The trip back is a long road on foot. That’s the only way out of it, though.”

She nodded. “And every footprint can be marked with blood and tears, such that you feel like there’s a trail following you wherever you go from there, ready to pull you back. I’m glad we both found our way.”

§

That was all that needed to be said. It was more than the mind-to-mind connection that made that possible, but God above, it sure helped. Garron had never felt such a comfortable silence with a woman. It was like sitting by a river of their entangled thoughts and memories, watching them flow by as they sat on the bank, hand in hand. Or as they stood among them, as they stood together in the water now.

“So going back to that third mark thing,” he said casually, “you just release some chemical inside me, like the first and second one, only I have to take some of your blood as well. Isn’t that the way it works?”

Her gaze came back to him, and he saw her weighing it in her mind. Could she do something as forbidden as fully mark a servant who wouldn’t be part of her life after these ten days? The thunder of need rising in her mind like primal drums, just from him bringing up the topic, told her yes. Yes, she could. Her fingers curved into claws on his chest, into the muscle.

“It’s temporary, my lady. You can trust that. I asked Vardalos when I called him. He said it works on the same premise as the second mark.”

He saw her flash of regret over the word “temporary”, quickly quelled by her rational nature. He schooled his expression to neutrality, hoping she didn’t catch any nuances from his mind that told her just how much he wanted it to be permanent, too.

“How does Theodosius know all this?”

“I’ve learned not to question his sources. He only lets you know what he wants you to know anyway. But he’s never told me anything that’s not true. He doesn’t bullshit. If he’s not sure of something, he’ll tell you that. He was sure of this.”

“Yes, you also take some of my blood,” she said at last. “Before or after, it doesn’t matter. Some feel taking it before helps guide the serum, like a marker.”

“How would you prefer it done, my lady?”

Her eyes grew more luminous, her mouth fuller as her lips parted. He felt her thighs press harder into his hips, her fingers grip his shoulders. “Are you sure that…”

“I’m sure.”

She might have been asking once more if he was sure the third mark would only be temporary, part of the island’s magic. Or she might have been asking if he was sure he was okay with the binding of that third mark. Either way, the answer was the same.
Yes.

“I would prefer my Master choose how he wants it done.”

“I’ve been wanting to take a healthy bite out of you since you got off the plane,” he said with a feral grin, and got an answering spark out of her gaze.

“That would have made the porters’ mouths drop open for sure.”

“They can mind their own damn business.”

A good Master did his homework, prepared as much as he could for what his sub would need, and this was no exception. When Vardalos had told him how the final mark was done, Garron knew if the issue came up, he wanted to do it without stumbling, without gnawing on her like a dog on a rawhide. So though he was sure she’d laugh if she saw it in his mind, he’d used an orange, the theory of it the same as for medics who practiced injections, because it replicated human skin the best. While biting through the rind was a bitter experience, doing so now with his lady was going to be anything but.

He wrapped his hand around her hair in that way that engaged her attention instantly, his other arm banding around her waist to hold her fast. His cock was already hardening against the soft give of her pussy beneath the thin suit. “Last time I did this, I got thrown into a mirror. Good thing I’m in the water this time.”

She gave him a haughty look. “The circumstances were different. For one thing you were trying to make me attack you. Plus you didn’t break the skin.”

He stroked his thumb along her pulsing artery. “So is my lady saying she’d welcome me being even rougher with her this time?”

Her pulse fluttered, all the answer to that he needed. He yanked her head back and struck.

He bit through her flesh to the artery, the taste of her blood telling him he’d done well. That and the extra bite of her nails, the gasp, her involuntary movement on him. While a mortal woman might have been alarmed to have someone take a healthy bite out of her carotid, a vampire took it as an erotic overture. One of those lovely moans slipped from her lips as her hips moved in invitation against his cock. Yeah. He wanted that, too. He wanted everything she had.

As he took her blood, surprised at how enticing the flavor was, he reached between them and slid two questing fingers beneath the crotch of the swimsuit. Though the water didn’t provide a natural lubricant, once past the outer labia, he stroked and found her natural slickness waiting for him. She clutched down on him hard.

That’s it, my lady. Make me your Master in all ways.

She gripped his head, telling him to pull back, that he’d taken enough. He began to lick the spot on her neck, providing the pressure needed to staunch the flow, if vampires clotted like humans did. Her hands cupped his bare skull, petted him as she rose and fell on his fingers, making him want to replace his fingers with his cock. If it had been a natural lagoon in the middle of a jungle, he would have rutted upon her on the banks until they were both covered with grass and mud, smelling of blood and earth. But he was just as good with manicured grass and a concrete lip. Whatever got him inside her sooner rather than later.

He brought his hand to her face, and she turned her mouth against the heel of his hand, then dipped lower. He saw the flash of her fangs, and she bit into his wrist, sending a swirl of fire through it, along with something else. Something that ratcheted up his desire tenfold, not that he needed any help with that when it came to her. Unlike those burning second and first marks, the pain this time was intense but irrelevant. He tore away the bottoms, pushed his own suit out of the way, and sheathed himself inside her in one brutal stroke that wrested a cry from her lips, even sealed over his flesh.

Cleansing fire, painful and yet fulfilling at once. He backed her up to the zero entry slope of the lagoon so he could lay her down, her head just above the water, and began to hammer his hips against her spread thighs. He kept her pinned there, his hands on her waist, making her take everything he was giving. She’d broken free of the hold on his wrist, the task done. He glimpsed a flash of ethereal blue on her fangs, a drop of it falling into the water and expanding like a tiny, fragile spider. That must be the third mark serum. In the real world, it would bind them together irrevocably. Here, it gave them enough of a taste of the possibilities he only wanted to demand more.

Putting a hand flat on her chest, he pushed her back as he straightened over her, keeping her in place as he worked her relentlessly. It was then that he felt it—the third mark taking hold.

That door inside her shuddered, the one under which she’d always disappeared like smoke.

Open to me, my lady. You no longer get to be anywhere I’m not. Surrender to your Master, now and forever.

She threw her head back, another cry breaking from her lips as a wave of near climactic pleasure seized them both. Not quite there, but so close it was too fucking good to leave the razor’s edge. Framing her breasts, he leaned down, nipped and sucked, thrusting and thrusting. He wanted to fuck her to death. Wanted to fuck them both to death.

Open to me, my lady. In all ways. Refuse me nothing.

He dropped down over her, bracing one hand by her head, and grasped her throat. Her lashes flickered up, her lips parted, eyes wide and sparking with all the possibilities of the universe.

“Now,” he growled. “Before I kick that fucking door down.”

She trembled, and it opened, so suddenly it was as if he fell into her, even as he felt her step across the same threshold in himself.

To truly know one another, inside and out. Understand everything about how they had been born, how life had sculpted them, every thought and feeling that governed them. Because this woman was a mystery even to herself, for him it would be a delicious, chaotic tapestry that continually altered. He’d found his way inside a submissive’s subconscious before, but it wasn’t like this. He was standing fully inside Kaela’s conscious and unconscious self, surrounded by the treasure that was there. Tears and anger, rage and joy, intellect and intuition, blind faith and measured calculation. Death and life, blood and healing.

There was so much detail, he closed his eyes to help him focus, even as his body continued on without any guidance, the rueful blessing and curse of being male. His cock didn’t need any direction to do what was needed, what it wanted. God, yes… Balls deep inside her, fully locked together physically, was the best way to experience this complete meshing of hearts and souls.

Her own body rose and fell to his, small sounds of physical stress and pleasure coming from her lips at the force of his taking. She was so wet, he was sure he would have heard her cunt sucking on his cock with every stroke if they were on dry land. As it was, the lagoon waters lapped over his thighs and ass, along her shoulders, across her breasts, like an additional stroke by sensual hands, urging them onward.

“Christ…you feel…” There were no words. He brought her up to him in one forceful yank, wrapped his arms around her, felt hers wrap around him and they became another of the lagoon’s melded silhouettes, meant to always be merged like this. Her life was cruel and unpredictable. He knew how to deal with that. What’s more, so did she. He’d never experienced such strength from one person, man or woman. Yet he felt her longing to have a port where she could set down the sword and shield, not have to wield that strength every moment of every day.