Dark Promises (Dark 25)

"I see you do not intend to be reasonable, Trixie. I told you we would talk when I returned. I would prefer to stay with you and clear these matters up, but my brethren call to me and it is dangerous here. For you. For Aleksei's lifemate and now for me and Aleksei."

"I didn't bring the others here," she snapped. She used her panties to clean off her thighs, trying not to die of shame and embarrassment.

He waved his hand and not only was she perfectly clean but she was fully clothed. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized just how powerful Fane really was. She had no idea how he'd talked her into having sex with him. She just knew that looking at him was a terrible mistake, because she wanted to have sex with him again.

He stepped close, took her hand and drew her up, his arm locking around her back, drawing her into him. She wouldn't have let him--at least she lied to herself, telling herself that--but he had to hold her up. Her legs felt weak around him, her knees giving out.

"Trixie." He murmured her name softly. "Why are you ashamed of being with me? I do not understand. I know you felt the same pleasure I did. Explain this to me. Please."

Was there hurt in his voice? In his beautiful eyes? She was hurt. Shocked at herself and angry with herself. She was old enough to know better. With any other man she might have just taken the time as an unexpected gift, but she knew she would forever feel this man inside of her. That wasn't his fault. That was hers.

"In spite of my age, I'm not exactly experienced. I don't have sexual exploits and it's a little embarrassing to have sex with a man I don't know." There. That was all he was going to get.

She wasn't going to tell him he somehow had wormed his way inside of her and she would never be able to get him out. Or that she was ashamed because at fifteen she'd had a baby because she'd let a boy touch her nine months earlier. Now she'd done the same thing all over again. There had been no dates. No courting. No sweet words. Just sex. It didn't matter that the sex was amazing, it was still her acting like an idiot. She hadn't learned one single lesson in her sixty-odd years of being on earth.

"What is this thing you called me? This 'hound dog.' It did not sound like a compliment."

She moved to put a little space between them. His arm locked around her back and his other hand came up to her hair. She had a lot of hair, and no man had put his hands in her hair, ever. The sensation sent a small answering spasm deep in her core. This man was lethal to her. She brought both hands up to push against his chest. The moment her palms encountered his muscles beneath his thin shirt, heat hit her. He was like a drug, rushing through her veins and spreading through her body with incredible heat. She wanted him all over again.

"I don't understand any of this," she whispered, wanting to be alone so she could have a good cry. In private. She wasn't sharing that. She never cried in front of anyone.

He put a little more pressure on her so that her body was tight against his. Very tight. She sighed and gave in, relaxing against him, allowing him to hold her. She recognized that he was trying to comfort her.

"I know for you it is difficult. I will explain everything when I return. I will not be gone long. Please do me the courtesy of staying within the gates. I am aware you have some kind of gift that allows you to walk through my safeguards, but it is not safe. I will return as fast as possible, and we will clear things up between us."

She bit her lip, allowing herself a moment to slide her arms around him and just hold him. Feel him. All that masculine strength. She wouldn't ever have this again, but she had it now. She inclined her head, as if agreeing with him.

"Trixie." There was amusement in his voice. "I can read your mind."

She blinked. Pulled back. If that was true, it wasn't a good thing. Her mind was a place no one else should ever be. She censored a lot.

"You leave me no choice. I will add to the safeguards at the gate. One I doubt you will be able to get around. If you go out the gates, lifemate, you will do so without a stitch of clothing on."

She shoved at him. Hard. "You can't do that. There's no way you can do that."

He didn't even rock away from her, not so much as an inch, and she put a lot of power in that shove. "Of course I can. I am Carpathian. You will stay here and wait for me as you should. I enjoy your attitude, but open defiance or putting yourself in danger will not be tolerated."

Her eyebrows shot up. This time she smacked his chest hard. "You did not just say that to me. You did not."

"I did. Heed my warning, sivamet. You walk out of the monastery, you will be doing it naked."

She had clothes in her backpack. She'd walk out all right, naked or not, and she would . . .

"Trixie. You are going to be difficult." He waved his hand.

She spun around. He let her by loosening his arm at her back. The moment she was fully facing away from him, he locked her in place again, his arm around her stomach. Her backpack was gone. The only thing left was her vampire-hunting kit--which did not contain a change of clothes--and her sleeping bag.

Trixie sighed and laid her head back against the solid wall of his chest, trying to keep her mind blank so he couldn't read her next move. Since she had no clue what she was going to do, but it probably involved murder and mayhem, she was certain he wouldn't get anything more out of her mind.

"Mayhem and murder?"

The male amusement in his voice, so soft and gentle, coupled with his hand at the nape of her neck was nearly her undoing. He sounded affectionate. Like he cared. Like she mattered to him and he found her cute, not annoying.

"My murder?" he prompted, turning her back in his arms so that she once again faced him, her body tight against his.

She nodded, her breasts aching and sensitive. There wasn't much else to do besides nod when he was reading her mind. That stupid, stupid stake gun wasn't going to do the trick. It was so getting a blistering one-star review when she got back home.

He laughed softly and framed her face with his hands, tipping her mouth toward his. "I will have to work much harder to convince you I am worth far more to you alive than dead. I am certain, given time, you will see just what I can do for you."

He brought his head down slowly. Very slowly. She should have turned her face away. He was holding her there, but his hands were gentle and she could have escaped. But no. His mouth was too tempting. The look in his eyes was warm, moving right on to hot, and she knew the taste of him.

He took her mouth gently. Well. It started out that way, and then he was kissing her hard and deep, sending her entire body into some kind of weird meltdown. She melted from the inside out due to the firestorm rushing through her. When he lifted his head she heard, to her everlasting shame, a moan of protest escape her throat. She blinked up at him, feeling dazed. Weak. Her hands were fisted in his shirt and she clung to him.

"Trixie. Han sivamak. You have to let go. I cannot wait any longer. I am needed, but I will return as quickly as possible."

/>   She nodded, looking at him. Tasting him. The fire not even tamping down a little bit. Not. One. Little. Bit.

"Han sivamak," he repeated, his tone tender, turning her heart over. His hands came up to hers and he gently removed her fingers from where they clenched his shirt.

She blinked some more, trying to come out of her fog. Out from under his spell. Where was Trixie? The woman she knew. The woman who handled any situation without so much as batting an eyelash. She was so far out of her depth she had no clue how to react.

"Say you will wait for me," he prompted.

At that precise moment she would have given him anything. She would have stripped naked and wound her body around his. She would have . . .

"Trixie." It was his turn to groan. "I am reading your mind, woman, and you are not making this easy for me."

She felt exactly how she wasn't making it easy. He was pressed up against her, tightly, his body hard. Hot. Deliciously hard. Without thinking, her hand slid down to the bulge there, wrapped around as much as she could get so that he pressed into her palm. She felt the answering jerk and found herself smiling. And happy. He wanted her. Again. She didn't have one lick of experience. She was old. Cobwebby. A dried-up prune, and he still wanted her. This gorgeous man.

She stepped back to give him room to leave, but her hand didn't leave his cock. She felt him, scorching hot, burning through the material of his trousers. If he wanted to leave, he was going to have to step away from her.

"I am going to make you beg me," he warned softly. "When I come back, I will have you again, and this time you will beg for release and I will not give it to you for a long, long time."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him the haughty look she'd perfected on schoolteachers and principals at the schools where her granddaughters went. The teachers assumed--rightly--her lack of education, but one haughty look and they stopped being so judgmental.

"There will be no more sex until we're in a proper bed with nice sheets. A bed I can go to sleep in afterward. Because camping is not my thing and I'm too old to be having sex on the ground. I've got enough aches and pains without adding to them." Of course, she was fairly certain she deserved a good time after so many years of absolute nothing. This gorgeous man wanted her again, dirt floor or not, she was there. But she preferred a bed.