Frostbound Read online

  Talia wasn’t so sure. “I think she wants to kill me. Is she going to try to kill you?”

  “She won’t hurt either one of us.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  The look he gave her was matter-of-fact. “I am Alpha. She can’t change that.”

  Talia let him take her hand, warming it between his own. He seemed so utterly certain of his powers.

  He was sure of her, too. He took her hand, pulling her to the pool of lamplight. The movement drew them into the bedroom. Talia could see raw scratches snaking down his arm, following the swell of his muscles. Suddenly, she wanted him. She wanted her tongue on those wounds, tasting the spicy blood she always sensed just under his skin.

  He was wearing another one of those tight T-shirts that showed off every one of his chest muscles. Doesn’t he own anything else? she thought irritably. Her fangs began to ache, matching the slow burn deep in her belly. She wanted to kiss the place just under his ear, where even on a work-hardened hellhound, the skin would be soft as apricots. Tasty. Yielding.

  She wanted her mouth all kinds of places, and the very thought of them was making her squirm. This can’t happen. He has to know the truth of who I am. What I’ve done.

  “What’s the matter?” Lore asked, cupping her face in his hands.

  “No one’s ever come looking for me before. In a good way, that is.”

  He took a step closer, sliding one hand behind her back. “Never?”

  “How do you think I ended up a vampire?”

  “Tell me.”

  She shrugged, wishing she had the strength of will to put distance between their bodies. It was as if she had to leave room between them for the story she didn’t want to tell. Lore seemed to feel her movement, because he stopped her with a soft caress.

  Talia bowed her head. “I . . . I was with some people who were having vampire issues. We were ambushed. It turns out the easy kill we thought we were going to make was a trap. I was covering our retreat. Back of the pack was a bad place to be.”

  With the lightest brush of his fingers, he tipped up her chin so that she looked at him. His dark eyes seemed to absorb all the light in the room, drowning her in their soft, deep brown. “That makes no sense. Was no one watching out for your safety? Hellhound guards go in pairs.”

  That was Tom’s job. “My partner was able to get away. I wasn’t.”

  “No one stopped to help you.” It wasn’t a question, but a conclusion.

  “Mission is more important than people. That’s what we were taught.”

  Lore pulled her to him, closing the embrace. “No, no. People are the mission. Survival is a battle won one child at a time. Any loss means the whole pack is weakened. We live and die together.”

  Talia closed her eyes. He had just risked himself for her sake, facing down one of his own people. No one had ever done anything like that for her. She couldn’t stand hiding from him one second longer.

  And yet she hesitated, swamped by the sensation of a free fall into the unknown. He’ll hate me. He might even kill me.

  But he deserved to know who he’d saved. And maybe, just maybe, she deserved the right to stop hiding.

  The giddy feeling continued, reminding her of that leap of faith through the hospital wall.

  “The man I was chasing, Max. He’s my brother.”

  “So Errata said.”

  “We were raised Hunters.”

  He pushed her away enough to look down on her. “When Errata looked into your background, she thought that was a possibility. When your brother showed up at the hospital, she knew it wasn’t for a family reunion.” His voice was quiet, but tight with apprehension.

  She felt as if her insides were falling away faster than the rest of her, leaving her hollow and empty, as desolate as the tunnels beneath the city streets. She pulled up the sleeve on her right arm, showing him the tattoo. “I was born a Hunter. Raised that way. My father taught me to kill anything that wasn’t human.”

  She could see him putting the pieces together, his gaze moving back and forth over her face. “Which made you a tempting target for someone like Belenos.”

  “Revenge.”

  “And your father never tried to rescue you?”

  “If he ever finds me, he will kill me. That was the whole point of Belenos’s little joke. You should have seen the look on my brother’s face. He was . . .”

  He was a recovering addict, terrified that she’d return him to that hell. Talia choked on the memory of Max’s anguished plea not to bite him. “The Hunters are here and they’re using magic and I think it’s something to do with the election.”

  Lore studied her face, his brows drawn together. His expression said that he’d taken in her last words, but he let them go. He kept his focus on her, as if she were the only thing that mattered.

  “From the very start, I should have guessed what you used to be. Your past doesn’t surprise me.” His voice was careful, as if he wasn’t sure yet what her confession meant. “The way you fight. The way you handle a gun. New vampires usually have little experience with werebeasts and half demons. You’re wary around nonhumans, but you aren’t afraid.”

  Talia waited for some sign of his rejection, bracing as if a surgeon were about to cut her flesh without benefit of freezing. “I guess I gave myself away,” was all she could manage.

  Lore’s gaze was still fixed on her face. “Not to anyone else. Your cover is good. The clothes. The teaching job.”

  “That’s not cover,” Talia said, a touch of heat creeping into her words. “I’m a girl. I like pretty things.”

  His lips twitched. “You have a lot of clothes.”

  “Paws off the closet.”

  There was a small change in his posture as his muscles relaxed. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  His easing off made it possible for her to unwind a little. “And I didn’t lie when I said that all I want to do is teach. I don’t mind kicking ass, but I’d rather do it in the classroom.”

  “I’ve heard of the human male’s fascination with naughty schoolgirls, but I think they’ve overlooked the teachers.”

  “You don’t hate me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Confusion crept up on her. “I have plenty of nonhuman blood on my hands.”

  He ran his thumb over her brow, smoothing out her frown. “For that, I’m sorry. But I don’t think you would do the same things now, would you?”

  “No. I’ll fight, but it will be for good reasons.”

  He bent and kissed her. They’d kissed before, but this was different. A new seriousness charged the moment.

  “You smell right to me,” he said, his voice suddenly husky.

  “Mm.” His scent was perfect—the warm, spicy musk of him locking her attention to him and him alone. She drank him in, one long deep breath reminding her how wonderful the presence of a warm, solid male could be.

  “I thought you didn’t do dead people.”

  “I’m in an experimental mood.”

  “Rebel without a chew stick.”

  “Shut up.”

  His lips were surprisingly soft, his hands warm and rough as they cupped her cheeks, positioning her just so for another kiss. She folded her fingers around his, pulling his hands down to her waist. He didn’t need more invitation than that. His hands slid under her sweater, gently kneading her flesh.

  She watched the strong architecture of tendon and muscle in Lore’s neck as he bent to kiss her again and again. Talia felt her hunger whisper through her blood, as subtle as the slide of silk on skin. As her desire rose, so did the urge to feed. One did not arrive without the other.

  Lore’s palm crept to her breast, cupping it, caressing her nipple through the lace of her bra.

  “If you keep this up, I’m going to bite you,” she said, the words barely above a hiss of inhaled breath.

  “I know. It won’t hurt me. I’m a demon, remember?”

  “Half demon.”

  His words were qui
ck, his breath hot and urgent on her cheek. “Demon enough that you can’t live off me. Demon enough that I won’t become addicted to you. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy it.”

  Encouraged, she let her lips slide to his jaw, running her tongue down the swell of his throat, exploring the ridges and valleys, the texture of his tanned skin. He had smelled delicious. He tasted exotic. The sweet ache in her jaws was matched by an insistent burn low in her belly.

  Hands spanning her waist, he hoisted her upward, depriving her of his taste. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him, her hands gripping the bulk of his shoulders. His dark eyes held her spellbound, the mix of emotions complex as a rare wine. But this time, they held something she hadn’t seen before.

  Pleasure.

  Raw. Unchecked.

  Talia was suddenly wet with anticipation. “Take me,” she said.

  In two strides, they were at the bed. She slid away from him, giving him room enough to pull his shirt off. Talia felt a sudden jolt of pleasure. Lore was big, but he was lean, nothing obscuring the fluid play of muscle under his skin. She stroked his chest with both hands, unable to resist that simple act of possession.

  As her hands reached the waistband of his low-slung jeans, she popped the button, then fingered the tab of the zipper. It was how she imagined Christmas morning should be, poised to rip the paper off the best present ever.

  He put his hand over hers. Feeling suddenly awkward, she started to draw back, but he tightened his grip, guiding her hand as she unzipped the jeans, the cloth springing away from the opening as it grew. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and he was ready to come out and play.

  He is the pack father. The fertile seed. Lore was more than well equipped for the job.

  Her body suddenly felt hot and heavy. Talia sank to her knees, stripping off his jeans as she knelt on the soft bedroom carpet. His thighs were roped with muscle, the legs of a long-distance runner.

  Talia’s stomach gave a flutter of excitement. No wonder Mavritte was pissed she couldn’t have him.

  “Talia,” he whispered, his hands weaving into her hair. “I want to make you remember my touch always.”

  The words had a vaguely ceremonial sound, as if they were a ritual declaration.

  “And I’ll give you something to remember.”

  She took him in her mouth, tasting the pungent salt of male. With fangs, it was a delicate operation, and one normally reserved for the most intimate of lovers. That she went straight to the most erotic gift she could give said much about how badly she wanted him.

  And here he probably thought this would be ordinary foreplay. A demon might not become chemically addicted to venom, but they would still feel its extreme erotic high.

  She cupped the warm heat of his sac, giving it a caress just on the right side of firmness. She heard the hiss of his breath, felt his fingers dig into her hair. Then she braced her other hand on the hard surface of his hip, bringing her mouth to the soft, silky inside of his thigh.

  And delicately broke the surface, no more than a deep scratch. Lore’s muscles jumped, but she held him still, using vampire strength. Her venom seeped into his flesh, straight to a male’s most erogenous area. His skin grew suddenly cold beneath her lips, and then flushed with heat. Lore moaned words she didn’t know, but completely understood. A vampire’s bite was painful, but the rush turned you into a single, taut nerve singing with pleasure.

  She released him, judging how much sensual overload would be just right. He was still saying something in his own language, his voice low and husky. When they’d begun, he’d been almost ready, but now he was fully engorged, hard and long. Talia felt her eyes growing wide as he pulled her to her feet. His eyes had gone to black, the whites disappeared somewhere in that stare that was more demon than man. Perhaps she’d overdone it?

  He grabbed her, crushing her lips under his, a low growl rumbling in his chest like an earthquake. She felt it in her breasts, pulsing where her nipples were pressed against his chest. A thrill of pleasure streaked all the way to her thighs. She fumbled for the fastenings on her own clothes, her fingers clumsy with urgency.

  Talia wasn’t going to waste this moment. She was an immortal, but she wasn’t convinced another opportunity like this was going to come along again in her Unlifetime.

  She had barely shimmied her jeans and panties over her hips before he jerked them down her legs. As she pulled her sweater off over her head, he was unhooking her bra, his mouth already on her breasts. He bore her down, spreading her before him on the bed, covering her with his big body.

  “You’re ready,” he murmured. “I can smell it.”

  Talia was quivering, feeling like she’d given herself a venom overdose. She ached from her breasts to her thighs, her whole body begging for him. In her sire’s court, she’d been made to pleasure others, but no one had given themselves to her. It had been so long. “Please.”

  He thrust inside, the first push deep and on the edge of painful. She twisted under him, wanting him gone, wanting more of him, and just wanting. He slid partway out, pushed again. This time, her hips rose up to meet him, a thin cry escaping from her lips.

  He was breathing hard, sweat trickling down the heavy swell of his arms. Orgasm began to stir in her belly, the first clouds of a gathering storm. Suddenly, the bloodlust swamped her, shredding through her as if those clouds carried electricity. With each of his strokes, she arched against the mattress, the sweetish taste of venom in her mouth as it leaked from her fangs.

  And then the storm began to break. Her muscles clenched around Lore, pleasuring him as he stroked into her. He murmured encouragements in his own tongue, but he was too far gone for finesse. His rhythm began to break, growing ragged as he growled again.

  The vibration in his body tipped her over the edge. Talia’s mind blanked, a white supernova of sensation as he released. The wet, hot flood of him filled her as he cried out, the hard force of his final thrust pinning her to the bed.

  In that moment, she struck, fangs sinking deep into his neck. Blood filled her mouth as his heart sped, the exotic flavor of demon teasing her. A second wave of pleasure rolled over her, hardening her nipples to hypersensitive points. Tiny contractions fluttered through her, milking him in time with his pulse.

  As this second orgasm crested, her venom released fully. Lore moaned as it flooded his blood, hardening him once more. He started to rear up, but she held him tight. She sucked, taking her fill, the heat of him bringing a false flush to her skin.

  Their hips began to rock together as she fed. Pressure began to build again, this time gentler, more gradual. The sound of flesh on flesh, lips on flesh, the mixing sigh of breath filled the lamp-lit room. Like all demons, Lore healed quickly, the flow of life stopping just shy of satisfaction.

  Talia rolled him over, still impaled on his shaft, and began to rock. His eyes were pools that held nothing but sensation. He reached for her breasts, cupping them, rolling the nipples with his thumbs. She was wet with needing him, but he was big enough to still be tight as she stroked him. She felt full—bursting with his blood and seed, but greedy for more. A contraction lanced through her, making her shudder.

  “Come for me,” Lore whispered. “Come for me, and let me finish you.”

  She rocked again, so sensitive that the stroke seemed to reach all the way to her throat.

  He thrust up, and that ended it. She cried out, her sharp nails scoring deep into the flesh of his shoulders. With a snarl, he pulled her under him, driving into her again and again, until in a final push he came one last time, filling Talia until she felt she could hold nothing more.

  He rolled his weight off her, and she rolled with him. Draped over Lore’s chest, Talia fell into an abyss of weightless afterglow. He was panting slightly, one arm curled protectively over her back. She could hear his heartbeat, strong and quick. She turned her head so she could see his face. He was watching her, his eyes hooded.

  “So is hellhound tasty?” he asked, his ton
e dry but gentle at the same time.

  “An acquired taste, I think.”

  “As the Alpha, I have prophetic gifts.”

  “And what do you prophesize?”

  “That you will never be left behind again.”

  “You going to handcuff me in a safe place?”

  His lips curled in a very male smile. “Would you like that?”

  Talia felt her energy flicker, like a short in her personal power line. She raised her head, looking toward the window. No, not yet!

  Lore rose up on one elbow, lifting her up along with him. “What’s wrong?”

  She sat up, feeling suddenly naked instead of seductively nude. “Dawn. You should go.”

  He touched her hair, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Why?”

  Anger and shame stabbed through her. She pulled away from his touch. “Because I fall into a coma and make like a dead person.”

  Lore seemed to be digesting this, his eyebrows drawn together. “You were in my apartment for several days. I know what happens.”

  But they hadn’t made love then. Now they had something to lose. “Turning into a corpse is a deal-ender for so many relationships. I don’t want that.”

  Strength was draining from her like a bath with no plug in the drain. Talia was starting to shake, her muscles too starved for energy to sit up. She lowered herself onto the pillow, tears of frustration filling her eyes. Why couldn’t we have had a few more minutes before the night had to end?

  Wordlessly, Lore lay down beside her, cradling her against him. Gently, he kissed away the wetness that had leaked from beneath her lashes.

  Talia’s heart hurt, strained with too much emotion. Ecstasy. Attraction. Sadness. Anger. It wasn’t fair. She’d been so strong, a sex goddess, an equal to Lore just minutes ago. Now she was an invalid, withering away in his arms. An object of pity.

  Why doesn’t he just go?

  “Do you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. He was warm, a walking furnace. He felt so good.

  “No. I go numb. It’s like dying every morning.” If only she could hide, keep him thinking she was the Talia of an hour ago . . . but she could barely move.