Night's Cold Kiss (8 page)

“I didn’t need it,” she lied—her headache still pounded heavily behind her eyes even if her side was no longer on fire.

“You can get dressed now.” Christian’s voice held an odd, gravelly timbre.

Antoinette turned to see ill-concealed hunger as his gaze slid down her scantily clad body, triggering her own heat. He wanted her—that much was clear. The woman in her felt a bolt of satisfaction; the Venator saw something she might be able to manipulate in future. Antoinette swung her legs off the bed and stood up way too fast, sending her head into a spin. She staggered forward and her feet entangled in the discarded dress on the floor. Pinwheeling her arms, she tried desperately to stay upright, but fell—right into his lap. Just as she started to get her bearings a thunderclap of red-hot desire hit with a force that would’ve knocked her on her ass if she hadn’t already been sitting. And then she did something she would never have dreamt of in a million years. She kissed him.

At first he remained rigid—she’d caught him by complete surprise, but no more than she’d caught herself. His lips were surprisingly soft and yet firm under hers. Then he responded and—
whoa, baby
—nerve endings lit up like Christmas trees and the fourth of July combined.

It’d been nearly a year since she’d been with a man, but sex had never been big on her agenda. This was different. Her body responded like dry land after drought-breaking rains, soaking up his heat, demanding more. He murmured something in her ear her lust-imbued mind couldn’t comprehend.

“What?” she asked, in a daze.

“My blood…an aphrodisiac,” he said between kisses.

Her foggy brain couldn’t or wouldn’t grasp his meaning and she pulled his head down to hers again so he could no longer talk. Antoinette was beyond caring. He was male—she was one horny woman—what could be the harm in a bit of a good time? She turned in his arms and swung her legs over his lap, straddling him.

He held her away by the shoulders. “Antoinette, I won’t be able to stop if you keep on like this. I won’t be able to control myself when the blood-thrall takes over.” His breath brushed her skin with the same burning heat as his body.

In answer, she leaned forward and pinched the skin above his jugular between her teeth. A low throaty purr with an undertone of menace rumbled under her hand on his chest.

It heightened her excitement and she nipped his throat again. This time Christian growled and slid the straps of her bra down over her shoulders, reaching behind to unfasten the clasp with practiced single-handed ease. She sighed loudly as the lacy constraints fell away and the cool air hit her hot, heavy breasts. Her nipples tightened under his intense gaze, spreading a warm tingle along the invisible strands joined to the apex between her thighs.

“Oh God,” Christian whispered and he leaned forward, taking a hardened nub between his lips.

Antoinette threw back her head and moaned, fireworks exploding behind her eyes. This had never happened to her before. Whatever he was doing to her she didn’t want him to stop. She started to rock in his lap, keeping with the rhythm of his powerful draws on her sensitive swollen flesh. When he released her nipple, a loud sob escaped her and he pinned
her arms behind, effectively immobilizing her as he took the other nipple in between his lips. Nothing had ever felt this good. The orgasm seemed to start at her toes and rocket through her body. Nothing had ever come close…“OH MY G…ahhhhhhhhh.”

Christian continued to suckle as she shuddered against him. Her hooded glassy eyes and the unexpected surprise on her face almost made him come too, but thanks to the tight constraint of his jeans she was able to hold back. One orgasm was only the start for someone in the heavy throes of blood-thrall. The blood he’d used to heal her had hit her bloodstream through the wound and brought it on.

He should have been more prepared for her reaction but he hadn’t expected this much intensity. If he didn’t know she was a Petrescu—the royalty of Venators—he’d swear she had Latent blood in her veins. Latents were acutely more susceptible to the effects of Aeternus blood than normal humans.

His lust rose, demanding to be quenched, going past the point of no return. She shoved him so his back hit the wall behind the stool and ripped his shirt over his head, but when she reached for the fly on his jeans he grabbed her wrists. She let out a tiny frustrated moan, and as he covered the sound with his lips she threw her arms around his neck. Christian stood with her still clinging to him and after unwrapping her arms, he threw her back on the bed where she spun, baring her teeth and glaring. Obviously she felt better;
the bruise had faded quite a bit. Now from the look in her eye, this wasn’t going to be gentle, not by a long shot.

Antoinette leapt off the other side of the bed. Her breasts heaved with each short panting breath as she glared at him, begging him and daring him in the same sultry expression. She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth and a tiny crimson drop swelled at the corner of her mouth. He zoned in on the growing bead of blood, quivering with the need to taste it.

Christian growled and his fangs extended to their full delicious length. There were two ways to feed the hungry beast within—blood and sex. And right now it demanded the latter. He dropped into a crouch then leapt, clearing the bed. The force bore them both into the bathroom. His blood-thrall overruled any sliver of control he had left and the only way to stop it now was complete and utter satiation. His…and hers.

Antoinette was so caught up in the grips of the blood-thrall she didn’t show any signs of fear. Instead she dug her nails hard into his shoulder. He welcomed the pain. Christian snared the crimson droplet at the corner of her mouth and her lips parted, expecting his kiss. Instead, he turned her to face the mirror. He reached around to cup her breasts in both hands, pressing his erection against her ass and watching her expression in the mirror as he squeezed the pert peaks. She sighed and her lashes brushed her cheeks as her lids closed and her head fell back against his shoulder.

“Open your eyes, Antoinette,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to see everything I do to you.”

Her eyes flung open, smoky green with arousal as he ran his hand across her stomach heading downward.

Oh God! Antoinette’s body screamed with the need for more. He held her eyes in the mirror, his face floating over her left shoulder. There was something in his expression, something animal. One of his hands rested, fingers splayed just under her navel, while his other traveled frustratingly close to her breasts.

Suddenly he yanked away the bandage over her wound. The tape ripped her skin, an instant of pain, so erotically exciting her legs trembled. She waited for the pain but the wound had already healed to two pink puckered scars. And when he ran the tip of his index finger across them, goose bumps rippled on her flesh.

Christian’s breath brushed her ear, even hotter than the heat she felt inside. He traced the underside of her breast then moved his fingers in concentric circles coming so close, but never quite touching tip of her nipple. Just when she thought she would go crazy he squeezed her hard nub. The sensation was so intense she almost came again, her hips jerked and her knees buckled. But Christian caught her around the waist and held her upright.

Slowly, when her legs stopped quivering, both his hands traveled south toward the edge of her lace panties. Her breathing froze as he teased the waist elastic and his erection leapt in its confines against her lower back. She spread her legs further apart and Christian’s fingers disappeared behind the lace and slid inside. Antoinette fell forward to lean her hands on the vanity counter, her hair falling over her shoulders and obscuring her view. Each maddening flick had her thighs twitching and trembling in time. He gathered her hair into the fist of his free hand as if to see her face while he drove her to the point of insanity…and beyond?

Christian removed his hand from between her thighs and ran it over her ass, his body quivering behind her. His eyes were closed when she looked up at his reflection in the mirror; he breathed roughly through his mouth, showing the long gleaming fangs. His eyelids were hooded slits, heat and menace radiating from the deep blue depths.

An animal-like growl rumbled in his chest when she tried to stand upright, and he pushed her forward until her elbows lay on the counter. He held her there while he yanked the fly on his jeans.

“Please…” she croaked, the need for him to be inside her almost unbearable. “Hurry!”

In one smooth movement he slid her panties down over the curve of her hips and she kicked them away. She planted her feet wider to give him access but he didn’t move. With a frustrated groan she arched her back, pushing her back against his hard warm length. He growled again, and with a hand to steady her he plunged in, all the way. She threw back her head, a cry escaping her throat as he filled her with absolute exquisiteness.

She was helpless. He held her hair in one hand and the other caressed the sensitive flesh at the base of her spine. He withdrew his full length then plunged all the way in again with as much delicious force as the first thrust. She cried out again. They locked eyes in the mirror as he began to thrust with more purpose, slowing building the rhythm. Christian let go of her hair and grabbed her hips with both hands. On each inward thrust, he pulled her toward him—for the first time in her life she didn’t care that she had no control.

Pressure started to build as his cock rammed home, hitting the sweet spot high in front, sending explosive sensations slamming into her cervix. He took her so hard and so fast, she rode the waves of pleasure. All of a sudden she reached the crest and fell headlong into incredible crashing waves of ecstasy. Shortly after, Christian shuddered behind her and his weight fell forward onto her back.

The moment he came, Antoinette shook herself out of the dreamlike state she’d been under. The spell was broken—the blood-thrall complete. Through the whole episode she’d had no thought beyond the sex they were having, nothing else had mattered—including why. Her reflection had passion painting a wild flush to her cheeks and across her chest, while her hair was a tumbled mess matching the turmoil of her mind.

Christian pulled up his jeans, the animalistic sheen in his eyes receding to be replaced by his natural blue. As he re
buttoned his fly she ran her gaze over the hairless six-pack stomach, and the natural V curve of his hip that arrowed down to his…

Antoinette shook off the last of the thrall and shoved him out of the bathroom, slamming and locking the door on his bewilderment. Then she turned to the mirror, though she could barely stand the sight of herself. How could she have slept with…with…the enemy? No, not slept with—fucked. He’d put that poison in her blood. It was his fault.

Sex was a form of release, nothing more. She was careful to pick partners who wouldn’t come looking for her afterward. Their faceless bodies were nothing more than a means to an end. She didn’t need the head-trips that went with relationships. Sometimes after a hunt she craved the release of pent-up tension, but she was always in total control—of both her orgasm and his.

However, this time it was different. She’d felt more than the usual superficial attraction. Even if the blood-thrall had fanned her desire she knew if there had been any other males in the room, even human, she still would have jumped Christian.

Alarm bells clanged in Christian’s head. What had happened had been way too intense. He usually had much more control even in the midst of blood-thrall. And he knew better than to get involved with a human—it brought nothing but pain. The last woman he’d formed a more than casual relationship with had betrayed him and left him a hollow, broken shell for decades.

Shaking the bad memories from his head, he knocked quietly on the bathroom door.

“Yes?” she answered from the other side.

“Just checking that you’re all right,” he said.

“I’m fine.” Her tone was crisp and sharp.

“Are you sure? I just want to…”

“I said I’m fine.” Her don’t-fuck-with-me tone rose slightly.

“Fine,”
he hissed, thinking of no better retort.

Then he crossed to the other door and almost ripped it from the frame as he pulled it open then slammed it behind him.

He could feel Viktor and Sergei’s eyes on him as he moved to the bar. Thank God for soundproofing. He poured a large measure of scotch, and downed it in one mouthful. Alcohol was the one thing from his pre-awakened days he could still enjoy, although he needed significantly more to get any effect.

“Your niece is one of the most infuriating females I’ve ever met,” he said to Sergei as he poured a second.

“She can be a handful.” Sergei shook his head and chuckled, and then his face grew stony. “But she’s also the best I’ve ever trained, even better than her father. She has a strong will, but in many ways she’s rather innocent.”

Not if you’d seen what just went on in the next room.

Did they know? It was hard to read Sergei, so he turned his attention to Viktor, who raised a questioning eyebrow. The scotch glass suddenly exploded in his hand.

“Shit!” he said as a large piece wedged itself in his palm, the sharp pain almost a relief.

He pulled it out with a gush of dark blood. Mary rushed forward with a couple of hand towels from the galley and began cleaning up. He took one and wiped his palm. The cuts immediately started to knit—within a few moments there wouldn’t even be a scar left to tell the tale.

“Antoinette has never worked with the Aeternus before. It will take some time,” Sergei said.

He tried to ignore the strange glances Viktor gave him as he poured a fresh glass of scotch.

“What?” he finally growled when he could take no more.

“Nothing,” Viktor said, “nothing at all.” But his eyes said differently as they darted to the door then back to Christian.

He knew.
Dammit.
Christian’s temper kicked up a notch as he downed the rest of the scotch and poured another. Could this day get any worse? He could smell her scent all over
him and his groin twitched in response. Viktor would’ve smelt it too. Christian could still feel Antoinette in his arms, the texture of her soft skin under his palm, the silky caress of her hair as it’d slipped through his fingers.

He started to get hard all over again and drowned the thoughts with a scotch chaser just as the door opened. Antoinette made a more subdued entrance, a sharp contrast to her last one. Her cheeks were flushed, but she refused to look at him, or anyone else for that matter.

“Are you feeling better?” Sergei asked.

She nodded slowly and shuffled past him to sit at the far end of the sofa by the window before turning to stare out into the inky blackness.

Cerberus jumped up onto the lounge and lay down beside her, placing his head in her lap. Christian threw an accusatory glance in Viktor’s direction, but from the expression on his friend’s face, he was just as surprised.

“Are you okay?” Christian asked.

No response.

“Antoinette?”

Still no answer, she just continued to stare out the window. When he touched her lightly on shoulder to get her attention, she jolted and Cerberus, picking up her surprise, lifted his head and growled softly.

Antoinette smiled and stroked the dog’s fur as she looked at Christian and she whispered, “Good boy—good boy.”

The fire in her eyes flared again.

Blue tinged the inky sky, signaling the approach of dawn as the limousine pulled up outside Christian’s Manhattan brownstone. His ever-efficient butler, Kavindish, stood waiting at the open front door. Christian still could never work out if the butler had a sixth sense or just impeccable timing.

Christian stepped from the car and looked up at his house. It was good to be home.

“Good morning, sir.” Kavindish stepped forward to take Christian’s coat. “I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“Interesting, Kavindish, very interesting.” Christian peeled off his gloves and passed them to the butler. “Viktor will be staying with us for a while.”

“I anticipated your request, sir. Mr. Dushic’s room has already been prepared.” Kavindish bowed his head.

“Thank you, Kavindish,” Christian said.

“You also have another guest, sir.”

Christian frowned—apart from Viktor there was only one other person Kavindish would allow to access his home. Christian sighed and rubbed the back of his head. All he’d wanted was a shower and some rest. “Where is she?”

“In the drawing room, sir.” Kavindish snapped his fingers and Susan, the maid, appeared.

As she bent down to pick up his bag, Susan looked up at Christian. “Welcome home, boss.”

“Susan,” Kavindish said, his tone tinged with disapproval.

She straightened, “Sorry, welcome home, sir.” As she turned, she gave Christian an impudent wink and he covered his smile by moving to the drawing room. Female laughter tinkled from behind its closed doors.

Shit
! What did she want now? He closed his eyes as his hand hovered over the handle. With a heavy sigh he flung open the door to find the beautiful raven-haired woman on his sofa sandwiched between two semi-naked, blond musclemen.

“Lilijana,” he said.

She smiled sweetly from among the heap of arms and legs. “Christian, darling,” she said, disentangling herself from the three-way embrace.

He brushed her offered cheek dutifully. “What do you want?” he asked, not in the mood for her usual games.