Chapter Ten
Oliver behaved as if there was nobody else there, no group of tourists staring open-mouthed, no men in suits and women in smart clothes moving toward them. It was as if Tegan were the only person in the room. It was the most romantic moment of her entire life.
“My lord.” The guide moved forward, smiling broadly.
Tegan would have stepped back, but Oliver wouldn’t let her, slipping his arm around her waist to hold her tightly by his side.
Spartan had vanished, she didn’t know when, but she felt a touch of his presence in her mind. Part of his duties, she presumed, and she knew enough about telepathy to know he wouldn’t intrude on them. More like a bodyguard sitting outside a room to safeguard the occupants.
What concerned her more were the interested stares people were giving her. No amount of fuzzing would prevent that, and it would take compulsion to wipe their minds, something forbidden in Talented society, unless under exceptional circumstances. Did this count as exceptional?
Why would you want to deny me?
She made the mistake of meeting his amused gaze. Under the humor lay a gleam of attraction, one she couldn’t help but respond to. Her panties dampened, and she hated herself for being so weak.
His murmur of, “Don’t look down,” told her he was in a similar state, and she felt hot blood rushing under her cheeks. That had never happened to her before. Never. But neither had a mission from CAT been anything like this one.
It never would again.
His left arm firmly around her waist, Oliver shook the guide’s hand and gave one of his devastating smiles. “Thank you so much for looking after my guests so well.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, sir.” A deep dimple appeared in her cheek, transforming her expression from stern and preoccupied to delighted. “It was a pleasure.”
“I appreciate it.” And he really did. Tegan felt the sincerity in his smile. “You’d better see to your family. I’ll look after the guests from here on.”
“Are you sure?” The woman swallowed.
“Positive.”
Casting him a doubtful look, the guide left.
Oliver bestowed a smile on the crowd. When Tegan tried to pull away, he only cinched her closer. “Mrs. Herries has a son in the hospital. Only a routine procedure, but of course she’d want to get away as soon as possible.”
Did he know, or had someone told him? She didn’t need anyone to answer that question. He knew. Attention to detail was one of his hallmarks.
Murmurs of sympathy greeted his news. He swung her around. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the other side of the house to see. If you don’t mind, I’ll take you along here and link you with another party about to take the tour. It’s a private corridor, so it might not be the historical feast you’re expecting, but please feel free to ask any questions you wish to.”
The hallway he took them along seemed more like a home. A stately home, to be sure, but a home all the same. Fresh flowers in vases sat between the tall windows, and chairs with indents in the cushions stood either side of the area. Clever man. Allowing them a glimpse meant they had a touch of privilege.
The low hum of conversation almost made Tegan forget she was walking in front of a crowd of people with her arm around the waist of the Earl of Derrington. Almost. He held her so close he made it impossible for her arm to go anywhere else.
So informal, she thought, and then realized she was thinking more like a duchess. One from the last century, probably. But she couldn’t help it. Her early training made it hard for her to show any kind of affection in public, much less a familiarity with a man that indicated a sexual relationship. Her sister would think nothing of it.
“They both arrived okay?”
He kept his society smile in place. “Your sister insists on doing her job, and she won’t be around as a guest. Except they’ll share a room, of course.”
“Not the one with the cherubs?”
His smile turned beatific. “The very same. Louis had assigned them somewhere else, but I couldn’t resist the thought of Virginia and the cherubs disporting in the same room.”
Worse and worse. Now he’d made her giggle. She’d never thought of herself as a giggler, but he brought out aspects of her personality she hadn't known before. Despite the rigorous analysis of her personality her tutors had made her undertake at school.
Before Oliver, she’d never considered her childhood as anything but a period she had to get through.
She wondered if they couldn’t have learned to be children sometime. Taught to play as well as learn. Oliver was teaching her to play, for the first time in her life, and she feared she might make a fool of herself before they’d done, too carried away by new emotions to control her reactions. She couldn’t afford to let go. Some measure of shielding must remain in place. Or she might fall apart, the threats of her childhood coming up to overwhelm her at last. She could not forget.
She’d never felt fear on a mission before, either. She’d always gone in aware of the possibility of her death or injury but prepared for it. She’d analyzed every situation, every possibility of danger, come up with the correct statistics, and they made her feel better. She’d taken comfort in having competent people on her side, appreciated their abilities. Not yearned for them when they left her, not felt so fucking…insecure. A word she hadn’t been familiar with until recently.
At the end of the hallway, they found another group waiting for them, and Grimm standing at a distance. He didn’t look as if he approved. Of anything, especially the way Oliver had drawn her into his body under the shelter of his arm. She kind of agreed, unused to this kind of display of public affection.
Oliver shook everyone’s hand and passed them on to the new guide, who greeted him with a smile and a cheerful wave when she led the group toward the other part of the tour. The Long Gallery, he said, and then the Elizabethan part of the house. Then Oliver smoothly passed the other guests into Grimm’s care and led her back along the hallway. They were alone this time, but he didn’t stop until he’d taken her through the bedroom she’d seen into the one she hadn’t.
He closed the door with enormous care, and then backed her against it and dropped his head so their foreheads touched. He let out a great sigh. Only then did he let her see his vulnerability, his tension, and she knew why he’d held her so close. He’d needed to hold her. “I’m coming out.”
“What?” She would have jerked back in shock, but the door was behind her. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll be outed anyway. It’s time.”
He’d told her that he’d know. But so soon? “You must have got into near-exposure scenes before.”
“I have, but not like this. They know about us, Talents. They’re more predisposed to believe it. I’ve expanded the party this weekend, asked the members of the board, and called an EGM. I’ll offer to stand down if they think it will help to limit the damage.”
“But you built that company.”
“Over a few years. A very few, compared to my lifetime. People depend on that company for a living, directly or indirectly. I can’t let them down. I’ll go if I have to.”
A pang hit her, right where her heart was. She’d never believed in those sayings about the heart, but she did now. Until recently, it had been a useful organ that kept her blood pumping. She wanted to give it to him. But she didn’t know how. She lifted her hand and cradled his cheek. He nestled against it, the bristles on his jaw abrading her palm. “You won’t. Whatever you decide, you won’t let anyone down.” She paused. “It could be an asset, you being a Talent.”
He lifted his head and gazed at her, his pale eyes devouring her features. “I lied to them about what I was, about how old I was. You don’t lie in business.” The corner of his mouth twisted in self-derision. “At least if you do, you don’t get found out.”
“Will you fight?”
The corners of his mouth threatened to crease as they did when he smiled, but the smile didn’t materialize. “You know me so well. Yes, I’ll probably fight. But I won’t hurt people by staying on if the majority don’t want me or if the shares plummet.”
“It’ll be fine.” She paused. “The guides will have a whole lot more to talk about.” She knew why he’d clung to her, why he hadn’t walked by her side, maybe reached for her hand, which was all he usually allowed himself in public. And she warmed even more. He needed her. Or he needed human contact, her inner voice said. But she clung to the idea that she was special somehow.
After tomorrow, everything would change. Everyone would know Oliver was a Talent, and she wouldn’t leave him, not even to fulfill her mission and catch the person who had violated her—or caused her to be violated.
Desperation filled her, and she reached out, grabbed the back of his neck, and dragged him close for a kiss.
He responded, so fine, so good. She opened her mouth, tasted his lips with her tongue and felt his tongue touching hers, caressing it.
Their lips crushed together, and they opened, desperately devouring, ravening for each other. His hands slid down her body, delineating the line between breast and hip and back again, to slide around to her shoulders and then down again.
With a hard jerk, he curved his hands over her ass and dragged her close, his erection branding her with his hot need.
She felt the same. No time to discuss, to talk. No need to. He kept his mind firmly in hers, opening to her, deeper than ever, letting her see and feel his need. Empowered by his psi, she tried warming him that way, stroking him with invisible fingers until he shuddered.
Triumph surged through her. She did something she’d heard about but never tried before. It worked. And he did it back, moving through her body to heat her, sample her, as if he were touching her from the inside out.
Naked, she wanted naked. What would this feel like then? He seemed to have the same idea, because he broke the kiss and tugged at her T-shirt, dragging it off over her head. Her bra went next, as fast as he could unclip it, then he was cupping her breasts, massaging her nipples into small beads of need.
She wanted him, too. He wore a white shirt tucked into his jeans, and she pulled at it hard until it gave, buttons clattering to the floor like little shards of her heart. She’d give him that if he asked for it. She already had.
He grabbed her, drew her close so his chest warmed her breasts and then squashed them. “You feel better than anything I could imagine.” He laughed, and she delighted to see it. “You always know exactly what I need. Come to bed, sweetheart, my love, my darling.”
And the world fell away so it was only the two of them. He moved back enough to undo her jeans, then he went down on one knee so he could slide them off her after he’d disposed of her sneakers. He tugged her socks off so she was left in only her panties, but before she could strip them off, he did it for her, still on his knees.
Then he slowed down, slid his hands up her inner thighs, stopping just short of her pussy. “Open,” he commanded.
She swallowed and moved one foot, stepping to the side so her thighs were open to him. So he could see it all. He got even wetter at the thought, her natural juices dampening her thighs. He touched her, one finger only, eased aside one fold so cold air hit the inner crease.
“Oh, sweetheart, so beautiful. All for me.” He leaned forward, swept his tongue over her, taking her most private essence into him. “It awes me that you chose me, that you wanted this from me. I don’t deserve you. But I’ve got you and I’m keeping you.”
It was growing dark outside, the light of day fading. In the half light, he seemed unearthly, his eyes gleaming, his hair shining with health and vitality. He was turning vampire.
She’d never watched the change before, only accepting it as part of his life, as normal as the sun going down, but she watched. His eyes took on an inner glow, and his lips plumped and reddened. Not very much, but watching the slight changes showed her the difference between man and vampire. But unlike legend, vampires were human, part of the infinite variety of human, not just the one species, as the ones they called mortals had believed for so long. Perhaps their time in the sun was ending and another species was coming into its own, or perhaps they would learn to live together and make the most of all their abilities.
It frightened her and excited her, but at this moment not half so much as the man kneeling before her, watching her pussy as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
Another lick. She shuddered, her hands flattening against the wall behind her. They hadn’t moved much, just to the wall to one side of the door, and she felt the paneled wood under her hands and gripped the shallow indents, pressing hard so she didn’t fall.
Then he sucked. This time she cried out, wordlessly calling for him, and he obliged. The wet sounds of his lavish feasting filled the quiet room, unnaturally silent, not even the sounds of passing traffic muffled by double glazing, as she’d become used to in London. She’d always been a city girl since she grew up, disliking the country and what it meant for her, but she felt it seep into her bones, invade her being with its peace.
While Oliver licked and sucked, teasing her, bringing her right up one moment, then releasing her clit to lick and taste, push his tongue inside and claim what he found there for his own. It was his, all of it.
He wouldn’t let her come, letting her come down at the peak, remaining in her mind to tease and caress. His hands, firm on her outer thighs, were all that held her up, because without them she’d collapse into a gelatinous heap, she was sure of it. He brought her there again and again, stopped until she shrieked at him. “Fuck me, you bastard! Make me come!”
Then he laughed, and at last he didn’t stop, pushing fingers inside her—she couldn’t tell how many—and sucking hard on her clit until she shattered into a quivering, shuddering heap of rapture.
He stood, tucked his hands under her bottom and lifted her. Automatically she lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist and bring him closer, and still befuddled by the shattering orgasm, she sighed in pleasure when he pushed his thick cock inside her needy body.
“Oh, darling, you’re so tight. Clamp those muscles around me, make me fight for it, work to get inside you.” His voice drove her to comply as best she could, clenching around him until he groaned. She’d make him pay for that teasing, in the best way she knew. She wouldn’t let him in.
Chuckling, he kissed her, and she wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back, sucking on his tongue to taste herself on him. Something she’d once imagined as repellent turned out to be the most erotic thing imaginable, tasting her body in his mouth, knowing where he’d been and sampling the proof of it. Pushing her against the wall, he eased back and worked her, pulling her lower body a couple of inches away from the surface so she could find leverage with her shoulders and push back.
She knew what she wanted. “Bite me.”
She saw the shock in his eyes before she felt it in his mind. He stilled, his cock embedded deeply in her body. “You don’t mean it.” But she heard the hope in his voice and knew he wanted to do it.
But that wasn’t why she’d said it. “Yes, I do. I mean it. I want that connection. I want to know you any way I can.” Because they couldn’t go on more than a few years until she started to age. He’d hate that, the constant reminder of the difference between them. She knew it, he did, and it lay like a stone between them. “Please, Oliver.”
The light in his eyes flared, and he let her see the predator. Curling his upper lip back, he let down his fangs. They shot out, their sharp and wicked tips reflecting what light there was. Flatter than ordinary teeth, with razor-sharp points, they were more like serpent teeth than human ones, complete with the hollow centers so he could draw up the blood in a capillary action, and it could flow directly to the extra organ he possessed near his kidneys, the one created expressly to process the living blood he needed to survive. Being a mature vampire, he didn’t need blood as often as a young one, but he needed to be at his peak. She used that as an excuse, but they’d promised honesty, and that included honesty to herself. “I just want to feel it. Feel you, all the ways I can.”
“And I haven’t fed for a while. Correct?”
She couldn’t lie to him. She nodded.
“I’m fine. But I want you, so much. You’re sure?”
She nodded again, then wiggled to feel him inside her. He swiveled his hips, rotating his cock. “Wicked woman,” he whispered and bent his head. He didn’t pull out but continued to drive his cock deep inside her, delivering pleasure as he accepted her offer.
Tilting her head to one side, she heard his sibilant hiss before the twin pop as his fangs pierced her skin. It felt like a slight intrusion, and she suspected he was taking some of the pain away. But he pressed so gently, and the touch of his lips against her skin caressed her softly.
She didn’t want gentle or soft. She wanted him to take her. Do it.
With a growl, he drew on her, although all he really needed to do was tap a vein. Her neck chilled at the spot where he connected with her, the blood leaving her body. She’d fed a vampire before, but not so intimately. Not just because of the sex, but the place from which he fed. Most took from the wrist, or if they took from her neck, they did it from behind, to minimize the discomfort, trying not to stimulate her. And they never gave her the endorphins they could use to provide a thrill, a kind of thanks to most people but too much of a threat to virgin sorcerers.
There was no need for that restraint now, and Oliver showed none. A flood of heat replaced the chill, and she gasped as her body responded, rushing toward orgasm with no prior warning. Her body jerked helplessly in his arms, given over to pure sensation. He growled against her neck, the vibrations adding to the torrent of response, and he knew it. She could do nothing to stop it, had to rely on him to keep her safe.
He finished, licked her neck to seal the punctures and then kissed each one, sweetly and softly. He continued to fuck her steadily while she was riding out her orgasm, then just moving. It would draw their minds closer, meld them that much more. As long as she kept hold of a few things and remembered not to agree to the bond, she was safe getting this close. Ten years, she promised herself. She’d have ten years of bliss with him. If he wanted that long. Otherwise she’d walk away with memories like this that she would never, ever regret.
She met his gaze, deep and fathomless and felt his gratitude, together with his sure and certain love.
His lips, redder than before, curved, and when he opened his mouth she saw he’d retracted his fangs. “Thank you.”
Simple and sincere, and right to her heart. She smiled back. “You’re welcome.” It was like the lull at the center of the storm.
He looked down at her body, naked and open for him, as it had been for no one else and growled again. Her arousal went straight up, Pavlovian in its instant response.
Then he thrust, long and deep and hard, giving no quarter this time. Not that she wanted any. She reached out, found his shoulders, held on, but she was no passive partner in this bout of rampant, wild fucking. The wet sound of his body slapping against hers, their flesh connecting with every solid stroke, added to the banquet of sensuality they shared, and she responded, tightening her vaginal muscles, thrusting back as he entered her and they found their rhythm. Until the heat scorched through her once more and this time he didn’t stop. He only thrust harder and then cried out her name with a guttural sound of ownership. He pulsed, his essence jetting inside her so she could feel it hitting her inner walls, the impact driving her higher, until she lost her breath.
His chest heaved as he gasped out her name and then moved closer, trapping her against the wall, his body, muscles delineated by a fine sheen of perspiration, sliding against hers, which was in a similar state. He lifted her and pressed his forehead against hers.
“You just get better,” he murmured, his voice dark as sin. “But we need to shower and change. Shall we save water and shower together?”
Her laughter echoed around the walls as he carried her into the bathroom.