With her nipple suckled in his mouth, he rumbled with lust-filled irritation, until his nails sharpened and he slashed the linen to bare the prize he sought. Cloth split and he pulled it away, willing his claws back to caress her tender flesh.
“Trinity,” Beth gasped, arching her wet cleft to his lusty stroke. He dug deeper, his dark desire to feel the snug sheath his shaft pounded for. “Oh!” Beth cried and her inner walls clenched around his finger.
“Gods, woman,” he rasped, circling his finger in wet heaven. He brought the cream back to rub deep into her slit as she panted, high sounds trembling against him. His jaw tightened to granite with the effort he used not to throw her down onto the carriage floor to just fuck her. But he had to have her. He’d played too deep. The thoughts there would be no virgin’s blood this time, taunted him. He could control his blood lust … just not both.
He worried for her innocence, to take her in a carriage, but the raging need inside him overrode his good intentions as his finger stroked between her swollen cleft and her creamy sheath.
Beth grasped Trinity’s shoulders as his powerful strength lifted her upright, then over him. She was dazed as he lifted her to straddle his hips. Then clarity shot through her when she felt the bare heat of his shaft press against her naked core. Her skirts were like pillows beside them, as the carriage rocked her hips and she panted, her gaze latched onto Trinity’s yellow eyes. His face was lean with harsh lines, his fangs long and gleaming as every grind fed the knowledge from him to her. From her to him. Pleasure. She saw it on his features. He was as raw with it as she was. His head dipped and his fangs slid on each side of her nipple, and his tongue skimmed forward caressing the tip. Her breath caught with intense pleasure, making her damp slit ride his hard shaft. With each draw of his lips over the taut tip of her nipple her hips rolled pressing the heated aches in her core against him.
“Trinity,” she gasped. “Trinity, oh, oh.”
Her eyes crimped with pleasure as her head fell back and her breasts thrust forward for more of his attention. His large warm hands grasped her bare hips and tugged her body, using his hands to grind her against him harder.
“Hellfire,” he uttered, his voice rumbling against her nipple.
Beth felt wetness slick the way as she slid her core along the hard length of him. The center of the ache drew her attention and she rolled her hips to stroke it harder. “Trinity,” she moaned his name in long sounds. His lips tugged on her nipple, sending sparks into the aches, making her feel wild. “I want, I want,” she panted.
She felt his hand between them, and he lifted his hard shaft. She rose on her knees riding her slit over the head. Trinity’s head fell back as he groaned and his neck arched to her lips. She kissed the strong column of his throat as the carriage swayed harder, moving her slit deep onto the head of his erection. She mewled in pleasure.
“Hold onto my shoulders,” he commanded in a tenor voice that instantly had her complying.
She felt both his hands brushing her inner thighs as the thick head of his shaft slid down her slit making her whimper and toss her head, then it seemed to fit to her, sinking in. She gasped with a low, “Oh,” etching from her mouth.
Trinity grabbed the back of Beth’s neck pulling her mouth to his. It took tremendous will power to not move faster when his lust was so ripe and hot he could feel the blood pooling in Beth’s sex, swelling the lips, flushing them open for his shaft. The perfect place for his fangs to pierce. He growled that thought aside against Beth’s soft lips. He would not draw his wife’s blood. Ever.
But he would lift his hips, thrusting more of his erection into his wife’s snug sheath, as he groaned in pleasure. He had Beth half seated onto his shaft as he held her from impaling herself on it, so he could ease the way. His muscles strained with tremors as she whimpered against his mouth and he kissed her with abandon, beyond thoughts about the sharpness of his fangs.
The front plate to his pants was open enough to have his erection free, but his high boots and the confinement of his trousers restricted his movements. He had to use the strength in his arms and the lift of his hips to follow Beth’s undulations. The sway of the carriage was with them, plunging them up and down. Then too far, as an erratic plunge seated Beth fully and she mewled with a high-pitched curl.
“Are you all right?” His demand was rasped with concern. He grabbed the back of her head to turn her eyes to him, and he saw she looked dazed, not pained, as though passion had her completely befuddled.
“Kiss me,” she whimpered and her lips sucked over his.
The draw of her mouth on his bottom lip threw a hard groan from him. Her hands were tugging and tearing at his shirt, until her fingers found the flesh of his chest, kneading and digging in with lust. Her hips followed, rising and lowering against his help.
“More,” she growled into his mouth, and she began to ride him as if she knew what every grind of her hips was doing to him.
A moment of incredulousness touched him that she’d know the lusty rhythm, but it stormed away with the wet heat of her inner sheath gripping him. She drew on his bottom lip as her voluptuous body rose and fell over him and his mind blanked in passion.
Beth’s cry of climax tugged her lips away from drawing on Trinity’s bottom lip. The pleasure was like the ocean crashing over her, and only such ecstasy could draw her away from the taste of Trinity’s blood. Blood from a pinprick of his fang on his bottom lip. Blood that drew across her tongue and down into her body like liquid fire. It struck outward to her limbs, curling and heating every fiber of her desire, until it centered deep in her sex.
She screamed Trinity’s name, arching back, shuddering as the charges of pleasure rolled through her with each of Trinity’s continuing thrusts. He groaned nearly to the depths of a bellow and she felt heat scorch her core, taking her higher. The pleasure was nearly unbearable it was so intense and she felt the hard throbbing of Trinity’s shaft deep inside her as her nails curled into his chest.
The tiniest amounts of his blood she’d gathered seemed to fuse with her soul writhing and turning, until she was a new being, not at all the same person she’d been. She could hear Trinity’s harsh breath, she could feel his connection to her inside her mind or her body, somehow, she was unsure how, but they were united. More than just a husband and wife. This was more. And the desire to give him her blood grew strong.
She bared her neck, pushing her hair aside, until Trinity’s strong lips pressed the curve. His fangs grazed her flesh with his heavy breath and her entire body tightened in pleasure. Gasping she felt the thickness of him through the tightening between her thighs. A moan escaped her as she sunk closer, offering her neck to him, quivering with hopefulness and need.
“No!” Trinity threw Beth aside, then he caught himself gentling, holding her until she fell to the side of him. He’d nearly bitten her. He’d been so close.
“Please,” Beth pleaded, with her black hair tangled around her. Her breasts were bare and her skirts were thrown across her hips showing her thighs through the scraps of linen he’d torn aside. “You need my blood, I can feel it,” she whispered.
How? Then he tasted it. His senses screaming. “
You
tasted my blood,” he accused as harshly as if it were a sin. He’d not known there was a cut on his lip.
She laid there open to him, bared. “Is that such a sin!” Tears filled her eyes. “Is it so undesirable that I crave your blood?”
He realized he’d harmed her feelings, acting as though she was tainted for desiring that which he took so freely to sustain him. But he was confused. “No, sweet Beth,” he uttered. “I’m just not certain what it does to you. I’d not have you live like an opium addict.” He reached for her, praying she’d come to him, and then feeling as though he didn’t deserve it when she did.
“Beth.” He smoothed her hair away from her face as she lay on his chest.
“I feel as though you must take my blood, Trinity. It throbs like a demand inside me. It can’t be wrong when it is so strong.”
He held her tighter. What he had done to her? He was torturing her even though he tried so hard to protect her from himself. His blood had to have done this to her. “I don’t trust myself,” he admitted harshly.
The carriage jerked and he tensed his arm holding her, keeping her against him through the rocking motions. When he expected the jarring movements to even out, they continued to lurch, making Beth cry out in surprise. Too late, he realized the carriage was out of control, jolting, then tilting to the side. Their bodies slid and he took the brunt of the impact on his back, while holding Beth and trying with his supernatural strength to keep her from harm.
“What is it?” she cried. “Trinity!”
The screeching of metal and boards snapping reverberated around them as their world inside the carriage began to topple and even his beast’s strength couldn’t hold his wife to him.
“Trinity!”
Chapter Twenty Eight
B
eth groaned awake to bright sunlight in her eyes. Why was she lying on her back with sunlight pulsing down on her? She groaned again at the odd angle her body seemed to be lying in and she raised a hand to her throbbing temple. Blood on her fingers caused her to pant and a ripple of pain flushed her body. Two of her fingers looked torn to the bone and her mouth drew a silent gasp.
She should feel more pain
. She should scream.
Somehow, the panic wouldn’t rise as high as she thought it should and she tried to focus her blurred vision on her fingers. Shouldn’t they be bleeding more? She blinked several times and it seemed to her with each blink the torn flesh looked better.
Trinity’s blood.
“Oh,” she moaned at the remembrance. She’d tasted it again and it was so intoxicating sliding down her throat, fusing in her body. “It heals me,” she breathed, remembering. That was why her battered flesh was healing and why the pain was bearable. Yet, why was she hurt? Where was she?
Then she remembered Trinity’s body against her and the spear of his manhood … “Trinity,” she gasped. Where was he? He’d been with her in the carriage. She forced her body to turn despite fearing it would hurt. However, the pain was dull. But then she heard a snort that made her whine in fear. “Oh, God.”
Quickly she saw it was a horse, above her, but several paces away. She realized there was broken wood and metal around her as the horse stomped and the wreckage groaned. “No,” she whispered, praying the horse wouldn’t move. She could see its harness was still attached. Slowly, she made her way out of the wreckage of the carriage. With each move and turn she made through the broken mass, she felt stronger and the pain grew less.
Trinity’s blood.
It was strengthening her and healing her, she thought, grasping a broken carriage rail for support. She realized her breasts were tumbled out of her bodice.
Because we made love.
She moaned in distress, remembering as she swayed and tried to right the collar of her dress to cover her chest. Her dress was torn and she could barely manage to get her breasts covered from the sun glaring down on the wreckage. It had to be the middle of the day with the sun straight overhead and there was the strangest feeling in her temples. It was as though words of desperation spoke without sound or form. Just impressions … and they were insistent.
She looked down the curve in the road; something dire was happening far ahead. It was desperate and the feelings were agonized as though someone dear was dying. She clutched her forehead. How could she feel such things? A groan sounded behind her, startling her and making her gasp.
“Trinity,” she cried, seeing some movement in the rubble. No further sound issued, and she had to pick her way through the uneven tumble of boards and bent metal. She came out on the far side from where she’d heard the groan, and now that she was on even ground, she picked up her trailing skirts and started to hurry. However, a second later she halted with a whine in her throat. There was a man lying sprawled on the ground. He was on his side and his arm was at such a strange angle behind him it had to be broken.
She realized he had to be the carriage driver and even though it frightened her to go nearer to him, to see if he lived, she forced herself. As she stooped beside him, placing her hand on his chest to feel if it was rising and falling, she thought it was a blessing he was unconscious. She could feel the shallow lifting of his chest, but his body was twisted with multiple breaks.
“I will try to find help,” she whispered, touching his temple. She rose, desperate to find Trinity, as she picked up her skirts and hurried around the side of the wreckage.
What she saw made her cry out Trinity’s name as she ran up to him and fell to her knees beside him. He was pinned under the wreckage with an axle beam over his chest and one of his arms caught under more pieces of wreckage, as he lay as if he were nailed to a cross. His eyes were closed and there seemed to be steam coming from the flesh on his face and hand. The sunlight? Was it because he was a vampire? It was so bright and hot. She never should have forced him to leave during daylight.
He looked so pale, with bluish casts under his closed eyes. His strong lips were lifelessly pale and his jaw slackened from its normal, chiseled strength. Beth grabbed her skirts with one hand, trying to hold them up to shield his face, while her other hand landed flat on his chest. It didn’t move — it seemed he wasn’t breathing.
Panic slid through her. “Trinity. Trinity.” She pushed against his chest.
“The wood,” he rasped, so low she barely caught it, as his eyes stayed closed. Hope struck her fast and clear. He was alive. But she looked around them. There was wood everywhere. What did he mean? “My leg.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Beth scooted back, bypassing the beam to look at Trinity’s lower body. She saw it immediately and a cry of distress shuddered from her lips as she scooted closer to the injury. It was a piece of wood imbedded in his thigh. She couldn’t tell how far it went in, but it was as thick as her small fist.