Be Mine Tonight (25 page)

God, he loved the feel of her in his mouth. Loved her taste, the texture, the way she moaned when he nipped lightly with his teeth. He loved the way she smelled, all heat and moist female, sweet and delicious.

He suckled her flesh until her fingers tangled in his hair, then he turned his attentions to the other breast. When he had her grinding herself against
him, little keening noises issuing from her throat, he knew it was time to move on.

Downward he traveled, planting kisses along the soft flesh of her rib cage, dipping into her navel with his tongue, nuzzling her belly and rubbing his freshly shaven jaw over the pale curve there. She had a belly and he loved it.

Kneeling between her legs, his hands caressing the soft, generous flare of her hips, Chapel stared at the thatch of auburn curls at the juncture of Pru’s thighs with heart-pounding anticipation.

He could smell the warm musk of her arousal. The scent fanned the flames of his own desire, made his gums itch with the need to make her his in every way he could.

Gently, he parted the lips of her sex, reveling in the dampness there. He wanted to hear her pants of pleasure, wanted to feel her shudder around him as her climax rocked her. He wanted to know he was the only man to ever make her feel such joy.

The only man who ever
would
make her feel such joy.

The first pass of his tongue was a quick lick just to torment. The second was firmer, had more purpose. She moaned, her heels digging into the mattress as she lifted herself to his mouth. Deftly, he licked again, savoring the salty musk of her sex. Giving her pleasure, knowing that he had the power to make her shatter into a million pieces aroused him as nothing else. He was hard and ready for her, but would not give in to that yet.

He worked her into a frenzy with his tongue,
concentrating on the firm, hooded nub that would eventually lead to her climax. Every cry and moan that tore from her throat made him more intent, more ruthless in his attack. He paused long enough to nip at her leg—a little scratch that made her jump and gasp in delight.

He could bring her to orgasm right now if he bit her there, sank his fangs into the warm flesh of her inner thigh, but he didn’t. He wanted to drag out her pleasure as long as he could.

One more ruthless lick and she shuddered with a cry. Her entire body arched as her fingers clutched at his hair, holding him to her.

He waited until she was still before rising up above her once more. She gazed up at him, eyes glazed with satisfaction and continued arousal.

“Roll over,” he told her, his voice low and rough in his own ears.

Her expression was uncertain, but his Pru was curious—always willing to try something new. She rolled onto her stomach, revealing the long, delicate slope of her back and the swell of her round buttocks. Chapel ran his hands down the smooth ivory of her spine, cupped the blushing cheeks of her bottom. He kneaded the flesh there, slowly drifting downward.

His.
She was his. His life, his love. His salvation.

Nudging her legs apart with his knee, he slipped between her thighs.

He reached down, sliding his hands beneath her pelvis. She was so soft against his hands—like
velvet. Gently, he pulled upward, guiding her hips toward his. He slipped a pillow beneath her for support.

When he had her exactly where he wanted her, Chapel grasped himself in one hand and guided the head of his cock to the opening of her body. Pru gasped as he found it, as ready for him as he was for her.

He slid the head inside her. His eyelids closed on a sigh of ecstasy. Slowly, he moved, molding his body to hers—his pelvis to her buttocks, his chest to her back. Even if he never got there, he knew this was what heaven felt like.

The sweet grip of her body around his and the soft coos of encouragement slipping breathlessly from between her lips heightened the urgency in his blood. Pru rocked her hips against him. He could feel her body tensing, could feel the tremble of her arms and thighs as she pushed herself toward climax. She was getting close. So very close.

Pushing her hair aside, he lowered his head to the warm hollow between her neck and shoulder. His fangs lengthened as he offered her his wrist. Her lips were warm and damp on his flesh and he could feel the sweet, undeniable pressure of her fangs as he sank his own into her shoulder.

She came.

Her release triggered his own. His body tightened and then seemed to explode inside. Their bodies moved a few seconds more and then stilled, allowing the residual shocks of pleasure to fade.

Chapel rolled to his side, taking Pru with him. Like spoons in a drawer, they curved together. He pulled the quilt over them and wrapped his arms around her, allowing the satiated slumber of fulfillment to take hold of him.

It was a few hours later when he woke. Dawn was approaching, he could feel it. They would be safe and fine in this room. The heavy drapes on the windows and the bed hangings would protect them from the sun’s burning rays, wrapping them in a dark cocoon.

“Are you going to open that package now?” Pru’s voice was husky with sleep.

Chuckling, Chapel rolled away from her. “Nosy.” He leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved the package from where Pru had dropped it earlier when he kissed her.

She sat up as he straightened, pushing the mass of her hair from her face. Even half asleep she amazed him.

He offered the package to her. “Would you like to open it?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Like a child, she snatched the package from him and tore into the wrapping with a gusto that made him make a mental note to double- or triple-wrap everything he gave her just to make it a bit of a challenge.

It was a small box, much like the kind jewelers used for their wares. That in itself wasn’t terribly odd, but what was inside it was.

Lying on the bed of black velvet was a silver medallion approximately three inches in diameter.
It wasn’t perfectly round, nor was it perfectly cast, but there was no denying the engraving upon its surface. It was a cross—the same cross burned into his shoulder. And on one side of it was a sword, on the other a chalice.

“What is it?” Pru asked. “Something from Molyneux?”

“No,” Chapel replied, knowing even as he reached for it what it was. “Molyneux didn’t send this.”

Warmth met his fingers as he lifted the heavy silver. It was like lightning dancing upon his skin.

It was the Blood Grail.

He didn’t know how or when Temple had done it, but somehow the other vampire had had the Grail melted down and made into this medallion—no doubt part of a matched set. Temple had known someone was after the Blood Grail, after him, and so he had taken precautions to ensure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.

How had Temple known? And why hadn’t he sent word?

“Is that what I think it is?” Pru asked.

Chapel nodded. “Can you feel it?”

Her eyes were huge. “It’s like all the hairs on my body are standing on end.”

“It’s from Temple.”

“There’s something else.” She pulled a small slip of paper from the box. “It looks like an address in Rome.”

Rome. Temple loved it there. If Temple had escaped his captors, that was where he would go.
Regardless, it was where he wanted Chapel to go, and there he would find more pieces to this puzzle.

“Have you ever been to Rome?” he asked Pru with a smile.

She grinned. “Are we going?”

He nodded, stretching out on the bed once more. “If you want. I don’t expect you to follow me around Europe as I search for Temple—”

She cut him off. “Of course I’m coming with you. Just try to go without me. I’m as much a part of this now as you are. If it weren’t for me, the order never would have gotten to Temple so easily.”

“You’re wrong,” he told her, “but I’m not going to argue with you. We’ll leave tonight.”

There was nothing they could do now. Later, when darkness came again, they would set out on the journey Temple had laid out for them. When night came, they would begin this new adventure.

But not now. Chapel was content to be here, in bed with Pru as the sky lightened outside. This feeling of joy was still so new to him, and he intended to take full advantage of it while he could.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his friend. He did. But he knew Temple well enough to know that if he had sent this medallion to him, then he had sent one to the other three as well, which meant that at least Bishop and possibly Reign might already be searching for him. Whether Saint would join them was a question only Saint could answer.

Temple was out there somewhere and Chapel would find him, no matter how long it took—one of the advantages to being immortal.

For now, however, Chapel was just going to fall asleep with his wife in his arms, his amazing Pru. He was going to need to be rested for all the living they had to do.

As usual, this book would not have been possible without the following people, to whom I need to give thanks:

To Kara, not only for answering my questions concerning cancer, but for all the good she does every day for those suffering from the disease. You’re pretty amazing, chickie.

To Nancy and Kelly, for urging and allowing me to take this opportunity

To Erika, for taking me on and helping me make this book a reality.

And to Steve, for all the support, brainstorming sessions, massages and takeout it took to get this book written. Sweetie, you’re my partner in the truest sense of the word.

My adoration and gratitude go out to you all. Thank you.

Kathryn