A Mermaid's Ransom (Daughters of Arianne 3)

He already had his hands under her skirt, finding the thin panties. He didn't rip them, merely drew the panel aside as she found him under the half-tunic. Closing her hands on the steel of his shaft, she guided him to her.

He was letting her lead, something he'd never done before. She didn't want that, didn't want him to restrain the innate urge of a vampire to claim and take. Perhaps he was denying his own nature as part of his penance, but he didn't understand it was a pleasure she needed to feel, as much as he needed to unleash it.

That is, he didn't understand it until she had the thought, and then his eyes blazed. She matched him with all her blatant hunger in her heart and mind. I'm yours, my lord. Remember? Take me as you want me. I love you, and I belong to you. Willingly.

His gaze locked with hers. I think you need to understand that I belong to you, merangel. Just as much. Perhaps more.

He turned them then, using his preternatural strength to bring her over him into a straddle, unlatching the belt so he could take the tunic off and leave himself open to her pleasure. His cock pressed between her legs, along the channel but not yet penetrating her, and she moved against him instinctively, earning a hiss and growl of approval. Her hands roamed over his chest, then down the flat plane of his stomach as his fists clenched, muscles tensing there.

Alexis pulled off her thin knit shirt, unlatched her bra and let it fall to the side, baring herself to his hungry gaze. When she cupped her breasts, feeling bold, he contracted beneath her, almost violently, as she flicked the nipples with her fingertips, making them even harder. Tightening her stomach, she leaned forward, still holding them until her nipples pressed high on his chest, her throat hovering above his mouth.

"If you belong to me, my lord, then I command you to drink. Feed yourself from me."

The hesitation was brief, as she felt the ripple in her own mind that suggested he was delving into it, finding out if this was what she wanted most. Yes. Goddess, yes.

With another growl, he scraped her, once, twice, an erotic tease that had her hands tightening on her breasts, her sex rubbing against his involuntarily. Reaching down, she grasped him so that as his fangs sank in and she arched her neck back with a cry, she pushed herself down onto his full length, letting him stretch her wide and impale deep.

Holy Mother, yes. This was what she'd needed so badly. Not just the sex . . . that was amazing, but it was merely the conduit to that sense of renewed connection. She didn't want it to break, not ever again. His hands gripped her biceps, hard. She laughed, a throaty, sultry sound as his instincts overwhelmed him and he turned them. Now she was on the bottom, spread for him, him drinking from her neck and moving rhythmically against her, taking her even higher.

I missed you. Please don't leave me alone like that, ever again.

I'll try. I missed you, too.

Simple words. When it came to love, he wasn't a poet, but since it was all new to him, she thought he was Shakespeare. That was another thing to add to her growing list of things to show him. Shakespeare plays in the park in the spring, softball with the Conservancy staff in the spring. Evenings with Clara trying to get everyone to do karaoke.

He halted on that pinnacle and she shuddered. "Don't stop."

His face was strained as well, telling her that stopping hadn't been an easy decision. But he gazed at her now, the two of them teetering on that brink.

"I need to stay down here for . . . a while longer. While I learn . . . more control." He flashed his fangs at the double entendre, a feral smile, and tightened his hands to ensure she stayed still. "And understanding. But would you consider . . . staying here"--his gaze quickly traversed the chamber, then came back to her face, seeing every quiver, the quick lick of her lips, her hammering pulse--"now and then? If I could provide you a better place to stay? With a library and books, and places to swim?"

He shifted and she cried out. "Persephone," she gasped. "Like Persephone. Down in Hell three months, then above for the rest, because her lover was the king of Hades."

She didn't know if he knew who Persephone was, but she didn't want to explain now. She wanted to say yes and go over that precipice with him. His eyes flamed with the pleasures of desire as she had the thought, and she increased her legs' grip on him.

Please, Dante. I will be with you wherever you are. You'll never get me to leave your side again, I don't care what ridiculous excuse you use. I want you, no matter what. I know what you deserve, who you are. Please . . . I'm dying here.

That look came into his gaze, the one that made her even hotter and crazier at once. He liked her begging, and she loved the way he looked at her when she did. So she did it again, and he began to move slowly, even as she felt his own restraint faltering. She felt so many things from him, and overriding it all was the need to claim her, bring her back fully inside his heart and soul through the physical act they were doing now.

Please come inside me. I need to be reminded I'm yours in all ways.

That shattered him, as she hoped and thought it would. It wasn't a trick, though. Just simple truth. She was his. As he was hers. Neither Heaven nor Hell, Fate nor the decisions either one of them made, could change that. She knew that now. There were some things that didn't stop being truth because the world fell off its axis.

She held on as he surged into her. His hand caressed her jaw to hold her steady as his fangs sank in again. When he groaned against her skin, she tumbled over herself, crying out her release.

Their affirmation rebounded against the stone walls of Hell. Echoing throughout all its chambers, it offered a slim but fierce sparkle of hope to all those seeking redemption.

The reminder that the only true path to it was through love.