Night's Pleasure (25 page)

“You never answered my question,” Savanah reminded him after a moment. “Will you stay with me?”

Savanah felt a flutter of excitement low in her belly when he gained his feet and walked toward her, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the short distance between them. He loomed over her, tall and dark and dangerous, his eyes glinting with desire. Her body warmed to his gaze.

“What do you think?” he asked again.

There was a lot to be said for being in love with a Vampire, Savanah thought as Rane lifted her into his arms. Cradling her to his chest with one hand, he slipped his other hand under her sweater to caress her belly. It sent shivers of anticipation racing down her spine. A moment later, her sweater was gone and he was kissing her breasts, his breath burning through her bra to warm the skin beneath as he carried her upstairs.

The bedroom was dark, the drapes drawn across the windows.

After setting her on her feet, he quickly divested Savanah of her bra, jeans, and panties; then, sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew her into the vee of his thighs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands. Drawing her head down, he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the pulse throbbing in her throat, careful to avoid the chain around her neck. No doubt it would burn him when they made love, but he dared not ask her to remove it. His tongue swept over her lips, parting them, then delved inside. The touch of his tongue against her own filled her with a sharp stab of desire.

When she thought she might explode with needing him, he fell back on the bed. Drawing her down on top of him, he kissed her again, long and deep. She groaned softly, certain she would expire on the spot if he didn't make love to her.

He showered her with kisses. His hands moved over her body as if for the first time, fondling, exploring, as if he had never touched her before. He worshiped her with his gaze, with his lips, each touch of his hands stroking skin that yearned for more.

Her own hands were trembling as she pulled his T-shirt over his head. She winced when her fingertips brushed against the ugly burn on his neck. After she dropped his T-shirt on the floor, he obligingly removed his sweatpants and tossed them aside, and then stretched out beside her, his skin cool against her heated flesh.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “It won't hurt you to…”

“It will hurt more not to.”

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, careful not to touch his singed flesh, fascinated by the rock-hard muscles of his biceps. “It was a brave thing you did, coming outside when the sun was up.”

“I'd do it again, for you.” And so saying, he covered her mouth with his.

The touch of his lips on hers drove everything from her mind but the need to taste him, caress him. Tears burned her eyes when she thought of how close she had come to losing him forever.

“Hey, what's this?” he asked, capturing one of her tears on the tip of his finger.

“Nothing.”

He drew back, his gaze moving over her face. “You're crying. Why?”

“You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn't.” He drew her into his embrace, his hand lightly stroking her hair. Her concern touched him as nothing else could. Since leaving home, no one had worried about him or cared whether he lived or died. Closing his eyes, he kissed his way along the smooth, warm flesh below her ear, cursed inwardly as his hunger flared to life.

Jackknifing into a sitting position, he turned his back to her. What was he doing? He couldn't hold her, make love to her, and not taste her. And he was sorely afraid a taste wouldn't be enough. Not now, when he hurt like hell. Perhaps never.

He flinched at the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

“Rane? What is it? What's wrong?”

He shook his head. “I can't do this.” He shivered as her fingers stroked his nape. Her touch stoked his desire and his hunger. It would be so easy to take her, to sheathe himself in her softness, to bury his fangs in her tender flesh, to drink and drink…

Muttering an oath, he gained his feet and stalked toward the window. His senses told him the storm had passed. Soon, the sun would set. If he drew back the heavy drapes and leaned out the window, how long would it take for the setting sun to turn his body to a pile of smoldering ash?

He took a step forward, watched his hand move toward one of the drapes…

“Stop it!” Savanah grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the window. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

He stared down at her, at the pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of her throat.

“Rane, please…” She laid a gentle hand against his singed cheek. “I love you. I can only imagine what you're going through, how painful this must be…”

“You can't imagine it! No one can. I can't look at you without wanting you, without wanting to drink and drink until there's nothing left! Why do you stay with me? You should be running for your life. You're in danger, Savanah, more than you know.”

His words, the intensity of his gaze, frightened her to the depths of her being and yet she couldn't leave him, couldn't run, not even to save her own life. He was hurting, suffering, and it was all her fault. If she hadn't gone outside, none of this would have happened.

She lifted the silver chain over her head, then brushed the hair from her neck and canted her head to one side.

“Didn't I tell you not to take that off?” He stared at her, his eyes glowing, his hands clenched at his sides. “I'm not sure even that could save you.”

“I'm not afraid. Drink, Rane, if that's what you want, what you need.”

“Dammit, woman, haven't you heard a word I said?”

“I heard.” Cupping his face in her hands, she drew his head down. “Do what you have to.”

His hands folded over her shoulders, imprisoning her in his grasp. His tongue brushed his fangs as he inhaled the scent of the crimson river flowing through her veins. She was his for the taking. The thought enflamed him.

He was lowering his head to her neck when she murmured, “I love you.”

Rane lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. And as had happened once before, the trust shining in her beautiful sky-blue eyes, the unconditional love in her voice, calmed the beast within him. He sighed as her arms slid around his waist.

“Savanah.” Whispering her name, he rested his forehead against hers. As long as she was his, maybe there was hope for him, after all.

Taking a deep breath, Savanah unlocked the front door of her father's house and stepped into the entryway. She stood there a moment while memories of happier times spent in this house played through her mind—a vague recollection of her mother walking her to kindergarten on the first day of school, the scent of freshly baked cookies that had always lingered in the air on Monday afternoons, the birthday parties and holidays in the backyard, the flowers her father had sent her the day she received her first big assignment at the
Chronicle,
all the nights she and her father had spent talking, laughing, working together.

“Oh, Dad,” she murmured, “I miss you so much.”

She was about to go into the living room when Rane moved up beside her.

“Wait a minute.”

Frowning, she looked up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“I don't think so. Just wait.”

Rane moved past her into the living room. Standing in the middle of the floor, he opened his preternatural senses. The air smelled a little stale; other than that, he sensed nothing amiss. After closing and locking the front door, he carried her belongings and one of his suitcases into the living room and dropped them on the sofa.

Following him into the room, Savanah turned on the table lamps. “It's just a house without him,” she said quietly. “He's the one who made it a home.”

Rane nodded, but said nothing.

Savanah blew out a sigh. She had known it would be hard coming back here, but she hadn't expected it to hurt so much. “Did you bring my mother's books?” she asked.

“No.”

“Where are they? Did you leave them at Mara's? I thought…”

“I buried them up in the mountains before we left.”

Savanah blinked at him. “How can I refer to them if they're not here?” she asked, striving not to lose her temper. “They're my books, Rane. I want them.”

“I know you do.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “But…”

“But you don't think I can keep them safe?”

“I don't think you'll be safe as long as they exist.”

He was probably right, but right or wrong, she was too tired to argue about it now. Swallowing her anger, she said, “It's late. I'm going upstairs to take a bath.” She picked up her suitcase. “Are you staying?”

“If you still want me to.”

“I do.”

He couldn't help admiring the gentle sway of her hips as she headed for the staircase, or the way the lamplight gilded her hair. He could smell her frustration, knew she was annoyed with him because of the books, but he didn't care. He had to do what he thought was best, and right now, keeping Savanah and those accursed books as far apart as possible seemed like the wisest thing to do.

He glanced up as he heard the water come on in the bathroom. It took damned little effort to imagine her disrobing, her movements graceful and unhurried, her skin smooth and clear, aglow with good health. Warm and alive.

He swore softly as images of Savanah reclining in a tub filled with foamy bubbles sprang full-blown into his mind.

Before he quite realized what he was doing, he was climbing the stairs two at a time. He hesitated only a moment before he opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

Savanah's eyelids flew open as he entered the room. “Oh! It's you. You scared the heck out of me.”

“Sorry.” His voice was low, little more than a rasp of sound. The frothy bubbles floating on the surface of the water did little to hide the swell of her breasts or her long, slender legs.

She looked up at him, her head canted to one side, one brow raised in amusement. “Would you care to join me?”

“I can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

“Well, come on, then.” She sat up to make room for him, watched avidly as he quickly undressed. Her gaze moved over him. The burns on his face looked pretty much the same as they had the day before, but the angry redness on his arms had faded. “Turn around.”

He lifted on brow. “Excuse me?”

“I want to look at your back.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened as he did as she asked.

“It looks better. I thought you said it would take a long time to heal.”

Rane shrugged as he turned to face her. He supposed the blood he had taken from her, along with the blood from the two young women and four men on the mountain, accounted for his healing.

Water sloshed over the edge of the bathtub as he stepped in and sat down, facing her. “You need a bigger tub.”

“You think?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not.” He spread his legs, then drew her into the vee of his thighs so that her legs rested over his.

“So, here we are, naked in the water again,” Savanah said with a grin.

“Indeed.”

She touched his cheek. “Does it still hurt terribly?”

“Not as bad as it did.” Taking up the soap, he reached around her and began washing her back.

Savanah rested her forehead on his shoulder. “That feels wonderful.”

A soft sound of assent rose in Rane's throat as his hands stroked over her soapy flesh. He washed her arms, her neck, her breasts. Leaning forward, he dropped kisses on the crown of her head.

After he had washed her, she took the soap to return the favor, but one touch of her hand on his chest and he was lost. Drawing her into his arms, he rose in one fluid movement and carried her into the bedroom where he lowered her onto the bed and then followed her down, his body covering hers as his mouth claimed her lips in a long searing kiss.

She ran her hands over his body, reveling in the way his skin rippled beneath her fingertips, in the flex and play of his biceps as she kneaded the muscles there. She quivered with anticipation as his hands caressed her, bold hands, strong hands.

Sensations flowed over her and through her—the damp sheets at her back, Rane's heated flesh, the sweep of his tongue across her lips, the brush of his hair against her shoulders as he nuzzled her neck, the rapid beat of her heart, the husky yearning in his voice as he whispered love words in her ear.

Right or wrong, she wanted him, all of him, the good and the bad. Wanted him with a desperation she had never known before. He was the strength to her weakness, a constant in her ever-changing world. The light to her darkness. No doubt he would find that as amusing as she did.

Grinning inwardly, Savanah wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him close, afraid he would change his mind yet again and leave her yearning for more.

But he had no thought to leave her, not now, not ever again.

Closing her eyes, Savanah gave herself into his keeping, body and soul, and as she did so, her thoughts became his, as his became hers. It was amazing, to feel what he felt, to know he experienced her pleasure as she experienced his. There was no shyness between them, no need for words. She satisfied his every desire as he satisfied hers. Truly, they were two halves made whole, two bodies with one heart, one mind.

The touch of his fangs at her throat sent her world spiraling out of control. Sobbing his name, she writhed beneath him, her body quivering with ecstasy until she lay sated and spent beneath him.

Rane's climax came quickly on the heels of her own. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his side so that they lay facing each other, their bodies still intimately joined together.

His gaze searched hers. “Still no regrets?”

“Not one. You?”

He shook his head. He had many regrets in life, but making love to Savanah wasn't one of them. He just wished he was worthy of her love, her trust. He had never intended for their relationship to go this far, never intended to fall in love with her, but now…it was beyond his control. He would love her, cherish her, until the end of time.

“And so,” he said, “where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you see yourself doing after we've found the Vampire who killed your father and you and your books are out of danger?”

“I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Do you have plans?”

“None that don't include you. Do you feel the same?”

She glanced down at their bodies, still joined together, then looked at him, one brow raised. “What do you think?”

“I think I want to make love to you again.”

“So soon? Can you?”

“I'm not a mortal man, love, have you forgotten?”

“How could I?” She nibbled on his chin, then kissed the tip of his nose. “I'm yours to command.”

His gaze moved over her face. Though she didn't know it, she was indeed his to command. He had tasted her blood, made her his as no other woman had ever been his. For better or worse, for the rest of her life, they were bound together. Should she choose to leave him sometime in the future, the blood bond between them would remain. No matter where she went, he would always be able to find her. Whether she wished it or not, she would always be his to command.

Cupping the back of her head in his hand, he claimed her lips with his, hunger and desire rising up like a wild-fire in his loins, yet even as he took her, a distant part of his mind hoped she wouldn't be incinerated by the flames.

 

Savanah woke with a smile and a groan. Turning onto her side, she glanced at the clock. It was almost four in the afternoon. She supposed it wasn't really so surprising that she had slept so long since Rane had made love to her all night long, each time more wonderful than the last. Sleep had claimed her sometime in the wee small hours of the morning.

Sitting up, she stretched her arms over her head. Where was he? Was he taking his rest somewhere in the house? If not, where would he go? Rising, she put on her robe, then went into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She slipped her mother's silver chain over her head, her fingers momentarily stroking the crucifix where it rested between her breasts.

After making her way downstairs, she put the coffee on, and then she wandered through the house, looking for Rane's resting place. She paused a moment outside her father's bedroom, her mind filling with unwanted images of the last time she had seen him, lying on the floor the night he died.

Expelling a deep breath, she opened the door. Rane wasn't in the room. She hadn't really expected to find him sleeping in her father's bed, or in any of the other rooms in the house, since none of them was equipped to completely block the sun's light. On the other hand, she didn't think he would go off and leave her alone, either, so where could he be? One thing was for certain, if he was in the house, she couldn't find him.

Returning to the kitchen, she poured herself a cup of coffee, then popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. When the toast was ready, she buttered it, then sat at the table, reliving the night before. She had always heard that men needed a certain amount of time between bouts of lovemaking, but that wasn't true of Rane. She had heard some of her friends complain that their husbands always turned over and fell asleep after making love. Savanah grinned, knowing that was one thing she would never have to worry about.

Sobering, she wondered if she would ever have a husband now.

What if Rane didn't want to get married?

What if he did? It was a topic they had never discussed.

Did she want to marry a Vampire? His parents, his grandparents, his brother and his sister-in-law were all Vampires. What would it be like, to be the only mortal in a family of the Undead? Would they accept her as part of the family, or would they look at her and see only prey?

And why was she even worrying about something that might never happen when her life was still in danger?

Savanah retrieved her other suitcase from the living room and carried it upstairs. She left Rane's on the sofa. She knew he wouldn't mind sharing her bed, but she didn't know if he'd want to share her bedroom, as well. Thus far, he had preferred to take his rest in privacy.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she lifted her mother's Vampire kit from her suitcase and dropped it on the bed. It took only minutes to put her clothes away and when that was done, she sat in the middle of the bed, her fingertips tracing the runes on the top of the metal box before she opened it. She ran her hands over the various instruments of destruction, smiling faintly as she imagined her mother and father doing the same thing in days past. She couldn't think of any two people who had looked less like Vampire hunters, she mused. But then, she had never seen a Vampire hunter, so what did she know?

Her fingertips lingered over one of the smooth wooden stakes. If she had learned anything up at Mara's place, it was that she should always have a bottle of holy water and a stake or two close at hand. With that thought in mind, she wrapped one of the stout wooden stakes in an old scarf and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans, then slipped a bottle of holy water into one of the pockets. She felt a little silly, being armed in her own house, but silly or not, it was the smart thing to do. Her gun was in her handbag. Perhaps it was time to buy a holster and carry the gun on her person, as well. She would have to ask Rane about that later.