Cole stepped through the French doors and prowled restlessly across the patio, drawn by the luminous, blue glow of accent lights beneath the surface of the pool. Laced with guilt over keeping the truth from Alex yet again, his body was tense with hungers of more than one variety. The glass of chilled blood he’d downed earlier hadn’t gone far to ease his need, and so he thought to take the edge off with a quick swim. The thought of going into the city, hunting up some fresh blood was tempting, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Alex alone. Especially not now that he knew how ineffective his security measures had proven against the Rogue.
With the band gone to the premiere, and the estate closed for the duration to groupies and hangers on, the place was a virtual tomb. He tried—very,
very
hard—not to think about the fact that he wasn’t
completely
alone. Because, if he dwelled on that one little detail, he’d go to her like a moth to a flame, knowing there would be no one to interrupt should his hungers get the best of him again.
By Odin, he swore silently as he whipped his muscle shirt over his head, the scent that was so uniquely Alex haunted him, even out here, mingling with the scents of chlorine and night.
Cole reached for the ties on the waistband of his sweats, and his hands froze—as did every other part of his body except for his blood, which surged violently with sheer, unadulterated lust.
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The object of his obsession floated aimlessly in the pool of liquid moonlight, her slim arms sliding through the water beside her exercise-flushed body in languid, graceful strokes. The sight of her, all golden skin and temptation, clad in alluring scraps of seduction, utterly ravaged him. The instant, sharp bite of hunger…the swift, undeniable burn of desire hit him, and he shook with the effort not to seize and take complete possession.
Some inner sense must have detected she was no longer alone. Alex lifted her head from the water, her eyes probing the shadows. As soon as she spied Cole, she shifted, moving to an upright position. Her shoulders bobbed at the surface of the water, and the silvery liquid sluiced over her skin, streaming down the valley between her full breasts, kissing her with glistening dew. Relaxed, she smiled up at Cole in warm surprise, his name a softly murmured question on her lips.
The combination proved a more potent aphrodisiac than Cole could resist.
With fiercely measured movements, Cole stripped away his sweats, revealing a sleek swimsuit that left little to the imagination. Alex’s eyes widened appreciatively as they swept over the chiseled length of his rock solid body. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip a second before she caught that lip between her small, perfect teeth. Wordlessly, purposefully, Cole strode toward the pool, a painfully sharp smile knifing his features, and he dove beneath the surface.
Cole swam beneath the water in ever tightening circles around her, like a shark scenting its next meal. Then suddenly he was there, standing before her. Well within reaching distance. His eyes held her trapped and immobile, 225
unable—unwilling—to move away.
“I didn’t realize you’d be swimming at this hour.” His soft voice feathered over her in one long, sensual caress.
“I was restless,” she murmured breathlessly.
“Me too,” Cole rumbled, slipping through the water, edging a little closer. His gaze fell to her lips, and he knew his eyes glowed brighter.
Alex licked her lips again. Cole’s hungry stare skated lower, drawn to the place where her pulse throbbed at the base of her throat. The blood in his own veins seethed and boiled.
“I usually swim in the morning, before the band or any of the others are up and about, but since everyone else was gone…” she rambled.
The only thing she succeeded in doing was remind them both that they were alone.
Completely alone.
Without a single soul to interrupt.
Alex’s eyes called to him on a level he couldn’t defend against. Jittery need swept through him like a firestorm. She whispered his name. The firestorm exploded with the force of a volcanic eruption, incinerating his restraint. In the flash of a heartbeat, Cole snaked an arm around Alex’s waist, dragging her against him. His other hand cupped the back of her head, holding her immobile beneath his sensual onslaught.
He knew the time for waiting was over. He knew, too, that this first time with her would not be slow and easy. Not for them. The
savouring
would come later. No, this first time, it would be hard and fast. Explosive. Hot flesh meeting slick hot flesh. Souls fusing, melding.
As Cole wrapped himself around her, as his heat surrounded her and his tongue invaded her mouth, he left her no room but to give in. She closed her eyes, slid her hands over his wet flesh.
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Her tongue dueled with his for control of the kiss, and in the end there was no winner, no loser, only the taste of surrender.
Alex’s bold caresses, her brazen kisses unleashed the primal, untamed desires inside him. Her soft, supple body pressed against his in all the right places, turning his bones to liquid.
Her mouth, hot and demanding, turned his blood into a raging inferno stoked by hungry desire, fueled by greedy need. His hands trembled as they stroked her flesh with fiercely controlled tenderness, so at odds with the ferocious demand of his kisses.
He ached, deep inside, and he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t assuage the painful need tearing through him. Even wedged tightly between her thighs wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t close enough, not until he’d buried himself deep inside her. Maybe not even then. What had come over him? He’d never experienced this…this fierce
thirst
for any other woman, ever. Cole’s hands slid down to grasp her hips, grinding his unyielding erection against her woman’s heat, groaning against her mouth.
His lips skated over her cheek and down the underside of her jaw. He licked and laved at the racing pulse below the ridge of her jawbone, and she arched in his arms. Hunger of a different kind rose up inside him at the memory of her sweet blood on his tongue when he’d nicked her before, and Cole groaned deep in his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought against the urge to sink his fangs into her tender skin and sup on the ambrosia of her lifeblood.
He knew he could take her blood here and now—knew once his fangs penetrated her flesh she’d be lost in the thrall of a Vampyre’s
Kiss
and would remember only sensual ecstasy afterward.
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Yet he fought against taking from her that which she didn’t willingly—knowingly—give to him. If and when he took her blood, it would be because
she
chose for it to be so. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him. But it did.
Frustration made turning his lips away from her throat a punishing endeavor, but he forced himself to focus on what she willingly offered, forced himself to center his attentions on the hunger that she appeared all too willing to appease. His body quaked. His resolve shook when she nipped at the side of his neck with her small, blunt teeth. The slight sting swept through him in vicious waves of pleasure.
“By the gods, sweetheart,” he moaned against her ear, his voice thick and dark as the night that surrounded them. “You’re my addiction. The more I touch you, the more I want. The more I taste of you, the more I need. I crave the very scent of you.” He fisted a hand in her hair and roughly pulled her head back so he could stare full on into her eyes. “I’ve been burning for you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” The admission of her own desires smoldered in her eyes, and it was his undoing. Tenderness, gentleness was vanquished in the wake of vicious carnal lust. His hands became rougher, his kisses ravaging, savage. The thi
n straps of her bikini snapped beneath his ferocity, her suit
disappearing in shredded pieces, and, somehow, his suit was gone as well.
He pressed Alex ruthlessly back against the hard wall of the pool. The searing, rock-solid heat of his rigid staff pressed between her thighs, rubbing against her, pulsing at the touch of her slick heat. The strained muscles of his chest crushed her breasts. Any thought of stopping—of slowing down at the very least—were gone as 228
soon as they formed. He’d rather take a stake in the heart than stop now, rather face the dawn than slow down.
His arms caged her, locking tight. He broke the kiss abruptly. His breath was ragged against her skin. Cole pressed his forehead to hers, noses touching. His eyes bore into hers with unswerving intensity as his steely erection invaded her slick, hot flesh in one long, forceful thrust. As her womanhood clenched tightly on him, he tossed his head back and roared…the sound so loud and so primitively possessive that she shuddered in his arms, wringing still another groan from him.
Then his mouth claimed hers once more, and he began to move.
As he buried himself to the hilt—ground himself deep inside her—he murmured between mind-boggling kisses, words in a language he knew she’d never heard spoken aloud, the language of the Norse gods, the language of his birth. The sound of those words sent rippling shivers through her, as if she sensed their significance, firing his blood even more.
As he withdrew, she cried his name. Then gasped it again, exultant, when he pounded back inside her. Over and over. Cole thrust deeply, mercilessly driving her up one shattering peak after another, until she hung limp in his arms.
Only then did he allow himself release from the ecstasy that held his body a shuddering captive.
With his face carefully averted—he could no longer conceal the change in his features—he growled his satisfaction against her shoulder and poured his heat into her.
Cole held her for measureless moments, long after the last quivers died away. Long enough for his face to smooth out once more, though the sharp sting of hunger was still upon him. Her 229
sweet blood rushed through her veins, calling to him. Her hammering pulses pounded in his ears.
Even as he fought against his baser needs, his long, nimble fingers tenderly stroked her neck and back, his lips nibbled sweet kisses across her jaw and mouth. He’d never experienced this warmth, this sense of completion before, and he was suddenly certain, beyond all reason, that he’d found his Bride. The revelation left him stunned speechless.
Up until now, he hadn’t really believed such a thing existed. He’d suspected, but carefully shied from facing the truth. He knew of only a few others of his kind who’d actually completed the Mating Rites. He’d certainly never imagined he’d be willing even to consider such a commitment.
The very idea left him wrecked, completely devastated, and yet oddly giddy.
For Vampyre, there was no higher
commitment—no vow held more dear—than that of the Mating, the commitment of a Vampyre pledging himself to his Bride, his fated mate, for infinity. It was a solemn commitment to cherish and love each other for all eternity, an unbreakable bond that not even death could sever. It was not one to be entered into without absolute certainty, for the commitment was very real. Absolute and unforgiving. Throughout time and space, the two would be drawn to each other, unable to stay away.
The actual Rites themselves were precise, requiring three specific elements to bind the mated pair. The two were required to drink from each other while making love, and the two were to recite the vow. Blood, sex, and spoken promises of the soul. From that moment on, the couple literally shared one heartbeat, one soul.
And, if one of the mates were Mortal, the 230
Vampyre would no longer be able to draw sustenance from another.
Unbidden, the flash of Alex’s tattoo blinked through Cole’s mind. The same symbol he’d insisted be engraved on every one of his weapons and his armor as a reminder to himself that wisdom was the ultimate prize. Her tattoo was, in his mind, as good as a sign from the gods.
He wanted her to understand it all, wanted her to understand what she meant to him—the depth of his emotion where she was concerned—
and what their future held. His love—a Vampyre’s love—was something infinitely deeper than that of mortal emotion. A Vampyre’s love was all consuming, greedy and elemental. It made no concessions, left no room for uncertainty. Once a Vampyre gave his heart, there was no turning back. It was forever.
Cole had given his heart to Alex.
“Alexandra,” he began softly against her hair, his hands reverent as they swept over her body.
“Hmm,” she mumbled against his collarbone, trembling, still adrift on the hazy aftershocks of their lovemaking.
“Honey, come with me,” he urged, wanting her again already—still hard inside her—but determined to wait until he’d had a chance to explain everything. “Come with me back to my room. The guys will be back soon, and we need to—”
Without warning, she tensed in his arms, and began pushing at his shoulders, startling Cole into silence mid-sentence. Panic and fear filled her eyes. Not fear of him, but fear of herself and what she’d allowed to happen.
“Let me go,” she insisted frantically, shoving harder, her voice held the honed edge of hysteria.
“Oh, my
God
, Cole! What did we do? Cole, let go!” 231
Confused, stunned, he released her, sliding reluctantly from her body and backing up a step.
His voice was sharp. “Alex…”