Raven Mask (18 page)

I’d tried to run from love, but one way or another, love always catches a person off guard.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, without seeming to pry. She had too much grace and elegance. She would ask a question when curious about something, but was as unobtrusive as possible.

“That everything happens for a reason,” I said, “and that nothing in life is set in stone.”

Lenorre smiled rather melancholically. “Love is stronger than stone.”

I sighed. “I’ll agree it’s a very strong force, but it’s still capable of dying.”

“Think of love as a garden,” she said thoughtfully. “Everyone knows if you do not tend to it, it will not grow. But in order to have a truly beautiful garden one must pull the weeds.”

I laughed. “Are you comparing my past relationships to weeds?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “I might be. Does the thought amuse you?”

“Yes, and strangely, it makes sense.”

Lenorre bowed her head. The long curls of her hair framed her porcelain face like some mythological painting of a dark Goddess. Her startling eyes met mine in a way that made the breath catch in my throat. The candlelight reflected off her pale features, and she tilted her head slightly to one side. “Does it?”

My pulse quickened, thudding against my ribs.

“Yes,” I said, mouth inexplicably dry. I blinked and her chair was suddenly empty. Arms wrapped around me from behind.

Her breath was hot against my ear. “Truly?”

I flinched, making one of those girlish sounds. I tried to get out of the chair but Lenorre pinned my wrists to the wooden arms with supernatural quickness and held me prisoner. I tried to turn to look at her, to see what expression she wore, but her face was too close.

“Lenorre?”

She knocked the chair out from under me, using her grip on my wrists to swing my body around in a graceful motion. I tried to catch my balance, nearly losing my footing before she picked me up and set me on the table. She grabbed the sash on the robe, jerking the tie loose. I made another startled sound, but this time it wasn’t girlish. Somewhere inside me the wolf’s eager anticipation was adding fuel to my leaping pulse.

“Yes, Kassandra?” She spread my legs with her hands.

“You didn’t throw me near one of the candles, did you?”

She grinned, flashing petite fangs. “Now,” she murmured, “would I do such a thing?”

Lenorre moved too quickly for me to form a response. She put a hand on my chest and pushed me backward on the table. I obeyed as her hand caressed down my body, her fingertips sliding beneath the band of my underwear. I heard the bowl of milk tip over and crash to the floor, then drip in a steady stream over the edge of the table.

She drew the underwear down my legs in a sensual glide, baring the most intimate part of my body to the warm candlelit room.

“Remove the shirt.” Lenorre spoke in a silken voice from where she stood between my legs. I could feel the smooth finish of the wooden table against the back of my knees, where my legs draped over the edge. “You may keep the robe.” Her hands swept across my thighs, making my body ache with desire. Her voice dropped into a breathy whisper. “I want to watch the candlelight dance across your breasts.”

Her demand made a shiver run through the lower part of my body. I did what she asked. If she had told me to ditch the robe, I would’ve done that too, albeit against all of my modesty. I sat up, shrugging out of the hunter green material, letting it slide down my arms. Lenorre stepped back, watching me with eyes like storm and sea fog. The chill of her power caressed my skin, causing my nipples to harden. I crossed my arms over my chest and tossed the shirt to the dining-room floor.

My hair was long enough to cover my breasts. Lenorre reached out, guiding the long tresses across my shoulder. I inhaled deeply. The merest brush of her fingertips caused my body to stir. The hair tickled along my skin, falling in a silken veil down my back.

“Lie down.” The chair legs scraped against the stone floor.

Lenorre pulled the chair to the table, looking like some dark queen upon her throne.

“Kassandra?” she asked, and I realized that I’d been staring at her. The breath filling my lungs was shallow.

I reclined, holding myself up on an elbow as I slipped one arm through the sleeve of the robe, then the other. It wasn’t about being covered, though the thought had crossed my mind. If we were interrupted I wanted to be able to dress quickly. I don’t believe in giving free shows, or any shows at all, for that matter. The material was undeniably soft against my skin, and the sensation of that softness was comforting. All of my senses heightened, and each touch echoed throughout my body in a wave of subtle pleasure.

Her hands wrapped around my calves as she pulled me across the table. Startled, I managed to catch myself, keeping my gaze on her as her hands caressed the back of my thighs, stopping at my ankles. “Put your feet on the arms of the chair.”

I braced the soles of my feet against them, and her hands wrapped around my ankles like shackles. My heart gave one startled thump that beat above the other beats as her mouth brushed the arch of my foot. Her tongue flicked out and I couldn’t decide if it tickled or felt good. I tried to draw away and her grip tightened as she held my legs in place. I was transfixed by her beauty as her mouth traced an invisible path up them.

She watched me, sliding her hands up the back of my thighs, dangerously close to more intimate parts. A flood of warmth pulsed between my legs.

“Lenorre,” I breathed, tossing my head back when she cupped my ass in her pale hands. “What are you doing?”

A breeze swept across my body, almost like a draft of air, but it wasn’t that. Her power caressed me like a lover, causing my nails to scrape loudly on the surface of the table.

“Feasting,” she said.

If I had thought one little brush of power was something, I had been wrong. It was only a taste, a sample of what she was capable of. Her power soared up my spine like a gasoline-soaked rope set on fire, causing my back to arch off the table. The room swam in streamers of darkness as my hips rose and fell. Her hands were suddenly on them, holding me down. Her nails dug into my skin, creating small crescent moons as she held me against the rising moon of her power, and as if her power were the moon, she called, but not to the beast. She called to my body.

I caught a glimpse of the candlelight reflecting in her eyes in an eerily cat-like fashion before the power hit me like a wave and took me under. It tore a long moan from my mouth, brought my back off the table again. I felt her hands again, like a weight wrapped around my ankles, pinning my feet back to the chair. My entire body thrummed with energy. A flicker of fear rose in me, but her power took me under its spell again. From the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet, heat sailed through my veins, coursing over every inch of my body, and where it touched, every muscle contracted. As if coaxed by an unseen hand, I cried out and clawed the air, searching for something to grab on to, for something to tear in the moment of passion’s chaos.

The table was cool against the side of my face. My breath came too quick and too deep, and my vision was blurry with the aftermath of orgasm. I wiped the sweat away from my forehead and drew in a deep, slow breath, trying to teach my lungs how to work again, trying to remember I had a body. I turned my head enough to see Lenorre lounging in the chair, watching me with a dark, triumphant expression.

I tried to speak, and my mouth was so dry I had to swallow. “Did you…” I breathed. “Did you just mind-fuck me?”

“No.” She noticed the fear I didn’t try to conceal. “Kassandra, why are you afraid?” She looked utterly perplexed, as if she couldn’t fathom someone being intimidated by the fact their vampire girlfriend had just rocked their world without so much as laying a fingertip on any sexual bits.

Spent, I lethargically pulled my legs on the table and she let me go. My hands shook where I drew the robe closed, covering the front of my body.

“Kassandra?” She searched my face.

“That was,” I tried to find the words, “too strange for me, Lenorre. It felt great, but it freaks me out a little that you weren’t even touching me. Okay?”

“Kassandra,” she said slowly, carefully. “It was my power that brought you. How is it any different from what we did earlier? I did not
enchant
you. I merely focused my energy and brought you. How different is it from your witchcraft?”

I laughed, nervously, suddenly very uncomfortable. “No one has
ever
done that to me, Lenorre. Absolutely no one. It’s not humanly possible.” I couldn’t summon the will to meet her gaze, half ashamed at my own fear, half angry it existed in the first place.

And that’s why you’re freaking out
, I thought.
Idiot, you’re not human. You think shape-shifting is humanly possible?

Lenorre gave a frustrated cry and hit the table with the palm of her hand. The table shook with the impact and I jumped.

Her power made her eyes surreal and misty.

“No,” I said.

She grabbed my thighs, jerking me forward again with little gentleness. I used my arms and shoulders to catch the impact, trying to keep the back of my head from hitting the hard surface. Her mouth was suddenly between my legs, erasing any sense of panic that had threatened to rise. She licked me, her tongue swirling in an intricate circle around my clit. I tried to pull away from her out of sheer stubbornness.

Lenorre grabbed my hips, anchoring my body to her mouth. With her mouth between my legs, I didn’t know whether to run or grind myself against her face in pleasure.

I forced myself to struggle, to fight against her. Lenorre gazed up my body, tearing her mouth from my mound. “Stop!”

Like someone had slapped me across the face, I did so, my pulse pounding. With her power riding her, she sent an intoxicating thrill through me.

The thought of Lenorre forcing me to surrender all of myself to her excited me beyond thought. I wanted her to take me. I wanted her to fight me, to dominate me. I didn’t care if it was the wolf’s desire or my own. I wanted her to win me, to prove herself strong enough to sway me.

Her nails dug into my hips, and the pain was sweetly delicious. She positioned her mouth between my legs, sealing her lips over me and sucking my clit roughly into her mouth, so roughly I cried out in pleasure and pain as her fangs grazed me. Her tongue found a rhythm, coaxing me to obey. I writhed on the table like the wet and aching thing she made of me. I fought in vain. She held me to her mouth as our wills battled.

She drew it out for a long time, bringing me to the height of pleasure and keeping me there, suspended, filled with a need so heavy it hurt to bear it. I cried her name in a half moan. I pleaded with her. I begged her for release. I apologized in an attempt to coax her to bring me. How long she drew it out, I could not say. It seemed like it had gone on for hours, until I had finally given up hope, destined to ride the waves of pleasure, to burn like the phoenix in the flames of my own aching desire.

It built inside me, like some great wave seeking a shore of release that it could not find. Tears burned at the corner of my eyes and I cried. My body shook with silent sobs as all the pain, all the emotional baggage I had carried with me sank in the face of Lenorre’s passion. My hips bucked as she drove my body to that emotional ledge once more. The orgasm built again, threatening to burst. I cursed, crying out in frustration. I expected her to pull away, but she did not. At last, she conquered me completely. Her tongue brought me with a ragged cry of pleasure while the tears stained my cheeks.

Afterward, I lay unmoving. I was still crying when her arms encircled my body. Lenorre cradled me protectively and tenderly against her, carrying me with ease.

“Thank you,” I said when I could finally summon the will to speak.

Lenorre said the only thing she needed to. “You’re welcome.”

I rested my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I rolled over yawning and got a mouthful of Lenorre’s velvety curls. Gently, I plucked the tresses out of my mouth and found a few of them were my own tangled strands. She was still out. Lenorre slept (if that’s what you want to call it) on her back. Her arms were crossed over her chest.

“Stereotypical vampire,” I mumbled, placing a kiss on her cheek and slipping from between the cool satin sheets.

No, not all vampires sleep with their arms crossed like that. Lenorre lay on her back a lot, but some mornings she died holding me. I didn’t like moving her when she was dead, and I didn’t want her dying with her face near my neck, because that meant she’d wake with her face near it if I couldn’t get away soon enough. A vampire plus a neck equals what? Therein lies my point.

The robe was at the foot of the bed, folded neatly over the wooden beam that mirrored the headboard. I picked it up, slipping it on. I needed some coffee and then a shower. First, I needed to find clothes to put on under the robe. I didn’t feel like trying to play cover-the-peek-a-boos to keep from flashing anyone. Rosalin was probably awake. The rest of the vampires would be just as dead as Lenorre.

I didn’t have any clean clothes, which gave me an excuse to rummage through Lenorre’s walk-in closet. It was decent-sized, with an obscene amount of silk. I found a pair of silk red pants with a drawstring and a matching button-up shirt and slipped them on, tying the drawstring and folding the waistband under so the pant legs wouldn’t drag on the floor—a trick we short people learn early on in life. I ran the silken sleeve of the shirt through my hands, trying to decide if I wanted to wear it, then brought the material to my face, inhaling sharply. It smelled like clean detergent, but beneath that scent was Lenorre’s. I slid it on and grinned when it came down to my knees.