The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood 16)

Marisol nodded and got to her feet. “Let me just clear first—”

“No,” Mrs. Carvalho said sharply. “I will clean. Then I will rest as well. We leave here at eleven-twenty. I no want to be late.”

Assail stood up. “Allow me to reassure you, madam, that your granddaughter’s aid will be that of a necessary nursing function only.”

“You are good boy. Now, go! Out of my kitchen.”

“You have honored us greatly with this meal.”

This caused all the males to get up and bow low to the diminutive, white-haired elder, and the flush that hit Mrs. Carvalho’s lined face told him that they had pleased her—although she would never say as much.

“Enough of this ceremony,” she muttered as she turned the sink on and got out the Ivory dish soap. “Off you all go.”

Ehric and Evale followed instruction to the letter, taking their stomachs in hand as if they were carrying boulders at waist level, and disappearing down below to their quarters. When Markcus hesitated, Assail had to do him a favor.

Putting an arm around the young male’s shoulder, Assail said quietly, “Go and rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“This is an argument you will never win. And we shall find other ways to serve her, I promise you.”

As Markcus nodded and followed the descending example set, Assail was free to hold an arm out to Sola and use the excuse of his physical condition to draw her close.

Underneath the soft, thin scrubs he had been given to wear home, he was already partially erect, his sexual drive awakening and resurrecting him even further, the need focusing him and giving him an urgency that was very familiar. He did pause, however, as they rounded the corner to the sleek stairs and he saw into his office.

“What is it?” Marisol asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I spent many hours in there.” He pointed through the open doorway, to the slice of hall light that penetrated the darkness and landed on his desk as if it were a portent. “So much time and effort.”

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s not think of anything right now. Let’s get you another shower.”

He allowed her to direct him to the ascent, and he was surprised by how weak his legs were. Even with his weight loss, they struggled to carry him up the stairs.

It was dark in the master bedroom, too, and he willed the dim lights on—

“You installed motion detectors?” Marisol said.

“Ah…yes. I did.” He was going to have to watch that. Vampires didn’t have to use light switches. “Look at this place. I am…back.”

The room was circular and had windows all the way around, the view of the winter landscape extending for miles. Paneled in a buttery burled walnut, everything glowed in the soft illumination, the sleek, contemporary decor a non-competing background to that incredible night horizon.

“I never thought I would see this again.” He went over and stared out at the river, the distant mountains, the city across the water. “I appreciate this all so much more now.”

“Listen, you don’t have to go to church. My grandmother is from the old school, and very devout, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Oh, I will go.” He turned around to his Marisol. “I am not familiar with your customs, but I would like to learn them.”

“So you’re not Christian? Not that it matters to me.”

“No, I am not.” Crossing the distance between them, he stepped in close to her and put a hand on the side of her neck. Rubbing his thumb over her jugular, he murmured, “So tell me, do they offer a forgiving of sins? For I am afraid I lied to that good woman downstairs.”

Marisol’s eyes flared and then her lids got heavy. “What did you lie to her about?”

“I don’t want a shower.” He stared at his female’s lips, watching them part. “And nursing is not what is necessary from you right now.”

Marisol leaned into his body, her hands going around him. “I think we can get this absolved.”

“Do you? That is good news, indeed.”

Tilting his head, he brushed his lips on hers, and the contact caused a bolt of energy to shock through him. So soft, so warm…so vital. It had seemed like a lifetime since he had kissed her properly, and the feel of her mouth made his world spin.

“Oh, Marisol,” he breathed.

He took things slowly, relearning the contours of her lips, asking and being granted permission for entry. Together, they backed up to the circular bed, and as they lay down, he dimmed the lights further.

He did not want her to see too much of him. Far better for her to rely on recollection; it was a more attractive picture.

“So you have a remote, too?”

Assail lifted his head. “What?”

“For the lights.”

Damn it, he was going to have to be more alert about these things.

By way of answering her, he kissed her some more, sweeping his hands down her arm and onto her rib cage. She was liquid gold beneath his touch, arching into him, her body hidden by the veil of her clothing and nevertheless awe-inspiring. And the more he touched her, the thicker the scent of her arousal grew—and soon he became stuck between wanting to hurry to be inside of her…and wanting this to last forever.

Easing back, he looked into her dark eyes and brushed her short blond hair back. He missed its natural color, he decided. His Marisol was an uncontrived beauty, too purposeful and direct to fuss with things like makeup trends and products that would add nothing to what already shone forth. But she was sublime in any way she came unto him.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she took the bottom of her fleece and the T-shirt under it and swept the pair up and over her head.

“Marisol…” he moaned.

Her breasts were just as he recalled, perfectly sized and covered not with lace, but with a simple cotton-cup bra. With fingers that trembled, he stroked over her collarbones…down to her sternum…and then up the edge of the bra, first on one side, then on the other. Her breath caught and released as he did so, her nipples hardening and showing themselves.

There was a front clasp.

Which, in his current frame of mind, was a clear sign that the Creator was a benevolent force in the world.

“I have to see you,” Assail groaned as he released the fastening.

The cups fell off to the side and he gasped as he ran his palm down the center of her body. His mouth was a greedy seeker as he pleasured her, sucking her tips in and giving himself up to the sounds she made, and the taste of her, and the fact that that scent of her sex was making his head hum—in a good way.

She was wearing blue jeans and he took his time stripping them and her panties off her long, muscled legs. His hands traveled the length of her, stroking her as he went back to attend to her breasts. And he stopped only when she tried to get under the loose scrubs that covered him.

“I don’t…I want to keep those on,” he said in a rough voice.

“All right. But not on my account.”

He shook his head, thinking about what he’d seen in the mirror at the clinic. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s you.” She smiled up at him, and touched his face. “It’s still you.”

“Fates, Marisol, there is so much more that I want to do with you—but I do not know how long I’ll have my energy.”

“Don’t worry. Anything with you will be amazing.”

A sudden wellspring of emotion made him tear up, but that was so not sexy. Just like his body, his bald head, his…

And yet Marisol was lying back in his pathetic, scrawny arms, staring up at him as if he were a god.

That was love, was it not.

When he couldn’t speak and didn’t move, her brows tightened. “What is it?”

Assail cleared his throat. “There are so many ways to tell someone that you care for them.”

“Yes”—she stroked his face some more—“there are.”

Marisol brought him to her mouth, pulling him on top of her. As he settled between her thighs, he could feel her heat, and he fumbled to get the waistband of the scrubs down over his erection. His sex kept getting in the way, however, the one thing on his body that had not been subject to shrinking size. ol nodded and got to her feet. “Let me just clear first—”

“No,” Mrs. Carvalho said sharply. “I will clean. Then I will rest as well. We leave here at eleven-twenty. I no want to be late.”

Assail stood up. “Allow me to reassure you, madam, that your granddaughter’s aid will be that of a necessary nursing function only.”

“You are good boy. Now, go! Out of my kitchen.”

“You have honored us greatly with this meal.”

This caused all the males to get up and bow low to the diminutive, white-haired elder, and the flush that hit Mrs. Carvalho’s lined face told him that they had pleased her—although she would never say as much.

“Enough of this ceremony,” she muttered as she turned the sink on and got out the Ivory dish soap. “Off you all go.”

Ehric and Evale followed instruction to the letter, taking their stomachs in hand as if they were carrying boulders at waist level, and disappearing down below to their quarters. When Markcus hesitated, Assail had to do him a favor.

Putting an arm around the young male’s shoulder, Assail said quietly, “Go and rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“This is an argument you will never win. And we shall find other ways to serve her, I promise you.”

As Markcus nodded and followed the descending example set, Assail was free to hold an arm out to Sola and use the excuse of his physical condition to draw her close.

Underneath the soft, thin scrubs he had been given to wear home, he was already partially erect, his sexual drive awakening and resurrecting him even further, the need focusing him and giving him an urgency that was very familiar. He did pause, however, as they rounded the corner to the sleek stairs and he saw into his office.

“What is it?” Marisol asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I spent many hours in there.” He pointed through the open doorway, to the slice of hall light that penetrated the darkness and landed on his desk as if it were a portent. “So much time and effort.”

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s not think of anything right now. Let’s get you another shower.”

He allowed her to direct him to the ascent, and he was surprised by how weak his legs were. Even with his weight loss, they struggled to carry him up the stairs.

It was dark in the master bedroom, too, and he willed the dim lights on—

“You installed motion detectors?” Marisol said.

“Ah…yes. I did.” He was going to have to watch that. Vampires didn’t have to use light switches. “Look at this place. I am…back.”

The room was circular and had windows all the way around, the view of the winter landscape extending for miles. Paneled in a buttery burled walnut, everything glowed in the soft illumination, the sleek, contemporary decor a non-competing background to that incredible night horizon.

“I never thought I would see this again.” He went over and stared out at the river, the distant mountains, the city across the water. “I appreciate this all so much more now.”

“Listen, you don’t have to go to church. My grandmother is from the old school, and very devout, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Oh, I will go.” He turned around to his Marisol. “I am not familiar with your customs, but I would like to learn them.”

“So you’re not Christian? Not that it matters to me.”

“No, I am not.” Crossing the distance between them, he stepped in close to her and put a hand on the side of her neck. Rubbing his thumb over her jugular, he murmured, “So tell me, do they offer a forgiving of sins? For I am afraid I lied to that good woman downstairs.”

Marisol’s eyes flared and then her lids got heavy. “What did you lie to her about?”

“I don’t want a shower.” He stared at his female’s lips, watching them part. “And nursing is not what is necessary from you right now.”

Marisol leaned into his body, her hands going around him. “I think we can get this absolved.”

“Do you? That is good news, indeed.”

Tilting his head, he brushed his lips on hers, and the contact caused a bolt of energy to shock through him. So soft, so warm…so vital. It had seemed like a lifetime since he had kissed her properly, and the feel of her mouth made his world spin.

“Oh, Marisol,” he breathed.

He took things slowly, relearning the contours of her lips, asking and being granted permission for entry. Together, they backed up to the circular bed, and as they lay down, he dimmed the lights further.

He did not want her to see too much of him. Far better for her to rely on recollection; it was a more attractive picture.

“So you have a remote, too?”

Assail lifted his head. “What?”

“For the lights.”

Damn it, he was going to have to be more alert about these things.

By way of answering her, he kissed her some more, sweeping his hands down her arm and onto her rib cage. She was liquid gold beneath his touch, arching into him, her body hidden by the veil of her clothing and nevertheless awe-inspiring. And the more he touched her, the thicker the scent of her arousal grew—and soon he became stuck between wanting to hurry to be inside of her…and wanting this to last forever.

Easing back, he looked into her dark eyes and brushed her short blond hair back. He missed its natural color, he decided. His Marisol was an uncontrived beauty, too purposeful and direct to fuss with things like makeup trends and products that would add nothing to what already shone forth. But she was sublime in any way she came unto him.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she took the bottom of her fleece and the T-shirt under it and swept the pair up and over her head.

“Marisol…” he moaned.

Her breasts were just as he recalled, perfectly sized and covered not with lace, but with a simple cotton-cup bra. With fingers that trembled, he stroked over her collarbones…down to her sternum…and then up the edge of the bra, first on one side, then on the other. Her breath caught and released as he did so, her nipples hardening and showing themselves.

There was a front clasp.

Which, in his current frame of mind, was a clear sign that the Creator was a benevolent force in the world.

“I have to see you,” Assail groaned as he released the fastening.

The cups fell off to the side and he gasped as he ran his palm down the center of her body. His mouth was a greedy seeker as he pleasured her, sucking her tips in and giving himself up to the sounds she made, and the taste of her, and the fact that that scent of her sex was making his head hum—in a good way.

She was wearing blue jeans and he took his time stripping them and her panties off her long, muscled legs. His hands traveled the length of her, stroking her as he went back to attend to her breasts. And he stopped only when she tried to get under the loose scrubs that covered him.

“I don’t…I want to keep those on,” he said in a rough voice.

“All right. But not on my account.”

He shook his head, thinking about what he’d seen in the mirror at the clinic. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s you.” She smiled up at him, and touched his face. “It’s still you.”

“Fates, Marisol, there is so much more that I want to do with you—but I do not know how long I’ll have my energy.”

“Don’t worry. Anything with you will be amazing.”

A sudden wellspring of emotion made him tear up, but that was so not sexy. Just like his body, his bald head, his…

And yet Marisol was lying back in his pathetic, scrawny arms, staring up at him as if he were a god.

That was love, was it not.

When he couldn’t speak and didn’t move, her brows tightened. “What is it?”

Assail cleared his throat. “There are so many ways to tell someone that you care for them.”

“Yes”—she stroked his face some more—“there are.”

Marisol brought him to her mouth, pulling him on top of her. As he settled between her thighs, he could feel her heat, and he fumbled to get the waistband of the scrubs down over his erection. His sex kept getting in the way, however, the one thing on his body that had not been subject to shrinking size.