Pressing against his head, she said softly, “Do it . . . ”
The words were still hovering in the air when he struck. As his fangs pierced her skin, she climaxed. Hard and fast, unending. Blood roared in her ears. Her heart raced. Deep inside, she felt him jerk and then he started to come, his cock throbbing inside her. She whimpered and convulsed around him, her inner muscles gripping him, milking him, draining him . . .
Just as he was draining her. His skin burned hotter and hotter and he growled against her neck.
Her blood . . . it was like nectar. Like ambrosia. The sweetest damn thing he’d ever tasted and he wanted to gorge on it. Wanted it—wanted it so bad. But instead, he lifted his head, stroked his tongue over the small wounds until they started to close.
She was still climaxing around him . . . still quivering, and as he covered her mouth with his, she sobbed out his name.
Elias.
Too drained to move, he collapsed against her, resting his head on the wall just behind her.
The water was starting to cool and he kept his body between hers and the spray. The cooler water didn’t affect him and thanks to that unplanned feeding, he was plenty warm enough for both of them.
Elias.
They really had to talk.
Slowly, he withdrew, gritting his teeth as she whimpered and wiggled around, clutching him close. Laughing softly, he dropped a kiss to her brow and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Better not.” Her lashes lifted just a fraction and then she sighed, closed her eyes. “I’ll turn you into a toad.”
“But then we couldn’t do this again,” he teased. He stroked a hand down her side and then groaned as she reached between them, closed her fingers around his length. “You’re going to kill me.”
She stiffened and Dominic lifted his head. The glimpse of pain in her eyes had him swearing and he could have kicked himself.
“Hush,” he whispered as she started to cry. “Shhh . . . I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re here . . . we’re together.”
Silly little fool
, Nessa thought, staring at him through the tears.
Tears burned her eyes, a harsh sob escaping her.
“Hey . . .”
The tears spilled free and try as she might, she couldn’t stop crying. Desperate, she wiggled until she could wrap her arms around him, seeking out the wound on his back with her hands.
There—it was right there. She could no longer feel it on the surface, but inside, she could still sense it . . . healing. Healing
slowly
, but it was healing.
Another sob tore free. Then another, and another.
He moved and she cried out, clutching him tighter. He paused and then shifted, lifting her in his arms as he murmured to her under his breath.
Nothing he said made sense.
She couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but clutch him close and cry.
She was unaware as he turned off the water, as he climbed from the shower.
Unaware of anything, everything, but the fact that he was
here
. . . and she’d almost killed him.
“Silver—I can’t believe I stabbed you with silver,” she babbled, running her hand over the wound. From somewhere inside, she found the strength, the focus to call her magic and she covered the wound. Healing warmth spilled from her into him—he gritted his teeth and stiffened, and she felt the edge of his pain.
It had her swearing. “Sorry. Bloody hell, I’m so sorry—no reason to go and hurt you, but I did it. You died once because of me, and I almost killed you this time. Silver. I stabbed you with bleeding silver and I could have killed you and . . . and . . . ”
He kissed her—hard and fast. Whatever else she was going to say died in her throat and she whimpered, once more wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him tight. So tight. She couldn’t ever let go. If she did, she’d wake and realize this wasn’t real. She’d wake . . . and he’d be gone.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please, you can’t ever leave me again.”
“Shhh . . . ” he crooned. Lifting his head, he stroked her hair back from her face and cupped her chin. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
He kissed the tears away from her cheeks and shifted around, grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over them. That was when she realized they were
in
a bed. She didn’t remember even leaving the shower.
They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Occasionally, she’d find herself stroking the place on his back where she’d stabbed him. It was fully healed now, but she could still feel the echo of the injury inside. More, she’d see that mark on his gleaming, golden skin for the rest of her life. For always.
She had to swallow convulsively, bile churning up her throat, as she realized she’d stabbed him in the exact same place he’d been stabbed . . . before. Back in that other life.
“How did this happen?” she finally asked, once she could speak without tripping over her words, without choking on the tears that still clogged her throat. “How is it that you are here?”
“You’re asking the wrong person.” He shifted, shrugged. One long-fingered hand toyed with her hair, winding one strand around his finger. “I’m still trying to catch up.”
Capturing her lip between her teeth, she sat up and studied his face. “You . . . You don’t look anything like you used to. But then, again, I guess you wouldn’t, would you? You’re not exactly the same man, are you?”
“No. Not exactly.” Lashes lowered over his eyes and his chest rose, fell on a sigh. Habitual gesture, she suspected. Although vampires didn’t need to breathe, many still did, especially when they were nervous or worried. Reaching out, she laid a hand on his chest. His skin was still warm, from being pressed against hers, and from feeding.
She’d shared her warmth with him, her life. Of course, she’d done it
after
she’d tried to kill him.
He covered her hand with his, squeezed gently. Slowly, his lashes lifted, revealing the dark, melted chocolate of his eyes. “Some of me is the same . . . but some of me . . . well, it isn’t.”
As he sat up, she cocked her head. “You feel the same to me. If I had seen you walking down the street, I would have known you.” Then she made a face. Closing a hand into a fist, she whispered, “But you had to find me when I was taking my merry little ride into the land of fuck-it-all.”
“ Hmmm.” He linked their hands, lifted them so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. “And exactly how did you end up in the land of fuck-it-all?”
Nessa shrugged. A rueful grin curled her lips and she said, “Oh, that’s been quite a journey. Five hundred empty years, and then I think I’m done, I’m finally done and I’ll be able to go to you. Find you. And . . . ” She trailed off, rubbing her brow.
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know what happened with Morgan.”
“Then you’re a step up on me,” she sighed. “I still don’t know what happened with Morgan. Or at least, I don’t
understand
it.”
He laid a hand on her cheek and she rubbed against it, so desperate for his touch.
“Anyway, for a while there, it was touch and go. I began drifting closer to the land of fuck-it-all, but mostly got straightened out. Ended up meeting this girl. A sweet, talented girl . . . she was like a daughter to me. One I never had a chance to have. And she died.” Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away. “Too much loss. All these years, there’s just been too much loss.”
Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I tangled with that witch you met earlier. Her name was Isis—mean as a snake, that one. I fought her and got careless. She caught me at just the right time and I went flying, scrambled my brain just a bit—not anything bad, but it was enough that she got away and I’d knew I’d have to track her. I was lying there, healing up and thinking . . .
I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to live this life . . . I don’t want to
remember
this life.
She stopped and looked up at him, blood rushing up to stain her cheeks.
He blinked at her. “You thought it.”
“Yes.” She licked her lips and used her free hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “I thought it. And, I guess, some part of me really
wanted
it.”
He shook his head and murmured, “Things like that don’t happen just because you
think
it.”
“They can if you’ve got the power to make it so . . . and the desire.” Lowering her gaze to the sheets, she whispered, “I cursed myself, and I did a right fine job of it, too.”
Cursed herself. Damned herself. Almost damned him, as well. Almost
killed
him.
Stop it—no more crying over that. Not now.
She took a deep breath and looked back at him. He was staring at her, as though he didn’t know what in the hell to think.
That makes two of us
. . .
Forcing a smile, she glanced around the room. “So there is a real bedroom in this place, I see. Not just that tiny closet you had us in.”
“Yeah.” A grin crooked his lips and he shrugged. “I just like the inner room better. Don’t have to worry about sunlight or anything in there.”
“The inner room. This is one of the safe houses,” she realized. Another realization slammed into her. Memories of the past hours became clear and as they did, pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Hunter.
This was one of the safe houses—she’d stayed in enough of them to recognize one. The safe room, the mini fridge—likely a stash of blood, kept for the vampires.
Isis—bugger. That bitch had called him a Hunter.
Hunter.
He was a Hunter—
His fingers skimmed down her cheek and she tensed, jerking her head up to look at him. He stilled, his hand lowering to his side.
The smile on her face felt brittle. “You’re a Hunter.”
“Yeah.” He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. He raked the heel of her hand with his teeth and then pressed a kiss to her palm. As he did it, he watched her face, a calm, measuring look in those dark brown eyes. “And I’m getting the feeling that bothers you.”
“Bothers me.” She closed her eyes and tried to figure out how to answer that . . . without lying. “Lover, everything about this bothers me. I can’t understand it, not any of it. I keep thinking,
What is all this
?
What on earth is going on?
” She shrugged and shook her head. “And I have no answer. Part of me believes I am sleeping, just dreaming, and soon I’ll wake up.”
Her breathing hitched in her throat and she had to fight not to crawl back into his lap and wrap herself around him, clutch him tight, hold him close and never let go.
I will come back . . .
Taking a deep breath, she blinked away the tears and said softly, “And if that happens, I’m gone. I won’t be able to handle it. I’m just not strong enough.”
He cupped her face in his hand and said quietly, “You’re a hell of lot stronger than you think.”
“Maybe I used to be. Once.” She turned her face into his hand, rubbing against him like a cat. His hand was callused, strong. She could imagine happily spending the rest of her life, however long that might be, feeling these hands on her every single day.
She’d waited so long for him . . .
He felt like Elias to her. He felt like her love.
But is that who he was
now
? Was this who he wanted to be?
Was she who he wanted?
She was so confused. And tired—blast it all, she was still so tired. But right now, she couldn’t try to think anything through, she couldn’t even try to rest. She wasn’t capable of it.
Just enjoy it
, she told herself.
Take what remains of the night and enjoy it . . . have a think through later.
Giving in to the urge, she climbed into his lap and pressed her back against his chest. She drew his arms around her waist, settling against him with a sigh. “I’m going to make a guess, here. Your name isn’t Elias, is it?” she asked, tongue in cheek.
“No.” He kissed her temple and rested his chin on her shoulder. It felt so natural . . . so right. Like they had done this a thousand times before. And they had—not a thousand times, perhaps not even a hundred. Their time together had been so short. Too short. But he had held her like this. She’d rested in his arms, and felt so at peace . . . so safe. So loved.
“Then what is it? You’re not going to make me guess, are you?”
She could feel him smile as he murmured, “No. It’s Dominic. Dominic Ralston.”
“Dominic.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyeing the inky black hair, the smooth, pale gold of his body—golden, even though his skin hadn’t seen the kiss of the sun in years. “Italian American?”
“Yeah. Via Memphis.”