The Black Lily (Tales of the Black Lily) Page 16

  He glided his hand along the inside of her thigh, finding her hot and damp.

  “What have we here?” He stroked her intimate folds slick with her desire. “So wet for me, Arabelle.” She clutched her hands in his shirt at the shoulder and hung on as he stroked higher. She dropped her head against the wall as he circled his finger over her tight nub before he pushed his finger inside. The tight hold of her sex told him she’d been without a lover for a long time, which only urged him on. A primitive craving to claim, possess, and protect her gripped him hard.

  He was no longer thinking. All rational thought had fled the second she’d demanded that he kiss her. He set his mouth to work along her neck, refusing to kiss her mouth so that he could hear every whimpering sound of pleasure she made. Though he was painfully hard, her sweet moans were a hypnotic torture that could easily become his own personal addiction.

  “Louder,” he demanded, loosening the laces of her bodice with one hand at her back, knowing this particular article of female clothing quite well. “I want to hear you.”

  He slid a second finger inside her and almost came in his trousers when she obeyed him, moaning her pleasure with each steady stroke of his fingers. He shifted her loosened bodice lower and pulled the top of her dress off her shoulder, exposing the black lily tattoo and one beautiful breast. Skimming his mouth down, he took one pink nipple between his lips and sucked then laved with his tongue, teasing the tight peak. She clawed a hand into his hair once more, pressing her breast up for him and rocking her hips to match the rhythm of his stroking fingers. With another flick of his tongue, he came back up and wrapped his fingers around her braid, tugging harder than he should so that her delectable throat was exposed.

  Though his desire to puncture her tender skin was almost unbearable, he’d never do anything to cause her pain or to look on him with loathing. He was already addicted to her sensual expression of ecstasy. He’d not ruin this perfect moment with his own brutal need.

  He brushed his open lips against hers, urging her on.

  “Come for me, Arabelle. And scream my name when you do.”

  She did just that on the next stroke. The sound of her satisfied pleasure unmade him. He’d never experienced anything more intimate with another woman in all his life. And he’d not even entered her body. With fangs or cock.

  He continued to stroke slowly as her sex clenched and pulsed around his fingers, until finally she dropped her head forward, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. He adored the feel of her limp and sated body leaning against him, her breaths still coming fast. He pressed his lips to her crown, not a kiss but a touch of intimacy, an acknowledgment that he belonged there, that her body belonged to him. With reluctance, he cupped her mound with his palm and slowly removed his fingers then righted her skirts. She lowered her leg as well but still clutched his shoulders as she caught her breath.

  Marius was so accustomed to chasing his own satisfaction with a woman. Sure, he’d made certain any bedmate left completely fulfilled, but this was different. Of course, he wanted to drive his cock inside Arabelle—now more than ever—but he was so content in watching her experience her release that he wasn’t concerned about satisfying his own desires for the moment. And he was still agonizingly rigid, with her soft, pliant body leaning gently against him for support.

  He didn’t know what to say but finally mustered, “Are you all right?”

  He kept her steady, his hands on her waist. With one hand on his chest, she gave him a gentle push. He let her put some distance between them. Tears rimmed her eyes.

  “No. I don’t believe I am.”

  She moved out of his embrace and faced the window near the bed, the sky fully dark now. Wiping her eyes while she righted her blouse, she tried to hide her tears.

  A burning anger ripped through his gut. She obviously regretted what had just happened. Something he certainly did not. It had been perhaps the greatest sensual experience of his very long life.

  “Do you want me to help you with your laces?”

  “I’ve got it,” she said with a sniffle.

  She fumbled with the lacings, knotting them rather than making any sort of headway. She yanked in frustration. He stepped up behind her.

  “Stop,” he said gently. “Let me.”

  Within a minute, he had them cinched tight and tied in a bow as before. She instantly took a step away, wiping her face with both hands.

  “I repulse you that much, do I? Even after—”

  “You don’t repulse me,” she cut him off. “It’s just overwhelming.”

  “What is exactly?”

  She pivoted. “This,” she said with a wave of her hand at the wall where they’d been coiled around each other moments before. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “I can explain it to you if you like.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand.”

  “No. I don’t. So clarify for me, if you will.”

  “This…attraction, or whatever it is, can’t happen. It can’t exist.”

  “And yet it does. Despite your protests.” He stepped closer, longing to bring back the woman who’d been moaning in his arms. He knew if he touched her, he’d have her back again.

  She backed up, bumping into the bed. He wondered if she knew it, too.

  “I thought you planned to throw me in the dungeon.”

  “Plans change.”

  Her gaze flicked to his chest, still gaping where she’d popped off the top two buttons.

  “And why have they changed so much?” she asked, head tilting with a narrowing of her hazel eyes.

  This was the Arabelle he was accustomed to, hardening herself to the vulnerability she’d revealed to him. Running far and away as fast as she could.

  “Let me guess,” she continued. “Now that you want to be my lover, you’ve decided putting me in the dungeon may not be the best course of action.”

  He smiled. “I won’t lie to you. I much prefer you free of the dank dungeon. And yes, because I do plan to make you my lover.”

  Her mouth fell open at his bold confession. She crossed her arms in defiance.

  “Ha! Keep dreaming, vampire. It will never happen.”

  “Vampire, is it now?” He strode forward. “Putting me at a distance? It won’t work.”

  They were toe to toe, and there was nowhere else for her to go.

  “What won’t work?”

  He gripped her arms and pulled her against his body once more. Her breath whooshed out, her lips parted and kiss-swollen. Stars above, what he wouldn’t do to show her what he meant rather than use words.

  “Pretending you didn’t feel what I did when my tongue was down your throat and my fingers were inside you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t be so crass.”

  “Close your eyes all you like, Arabelle.” He leaned closer and let his lips caress the shell of her ear when he said, “But know this. I can still smell the scent of desire on you, so don’t pretend you don’t feel it. We were meant to be lovers. You can fight the inevitable all you like. I’ll never force you. I won’t even gloat when you finally ask me into your bed.”

  “I’ll never ask,” she retorted.

  He let one canine barely prick her lobe, a single drop of blood beaded like a pearl. When he licked with his tongue, she shivered with a small whimper. He swallowed the taste of her and wiped away the smile from his face.

  “No, you may not ask. But you will beg.”

  “Ha! In your dreams.”

  Suddenly, his arrogance evaporated, imagining what it would be like to be loved by one such as her. It was his turn to close his eyes, relishing the image but also wishing it away. For if it ever came to pass that they might truly satisfy this undeniable passion sparking like wildfire between them, it would be a fleeting moment. Nothing more. And that alone made his heart sick. There was no world where the two of them could be true lovers. She did not belong in the Glass Tower. And he did not belong in her world of the
Black Lily.

  He let go of her and backed away. He gestured toward the book on the bed.

  “You left something behind.”

  She looked down over her shoulder and swept it up into her hands, flipping it open. Her haughty tone seemed to be sucked into the ether.

  “I’d hoped to find it still here. Thank you.”

  “I had no reason to take it. I have my own copy. As you well know.”

  “But you do not subscribe to its teachings.”

  “Not all.” He turned for the door. “But some.”

  She wore a perplexing yet adorable expression on her face. Marius knew she was trying to work out why and how he was leaving her still free rather than binding her hands and dragging her to the palace. Something inside softened his hard edge of anger. Though stubborn, she was open to receiving his aid. That in itself lightened his spirit and sparked a hope that there might be some peaceful resolve to this brewing resistance. Even if he couldn’t have her, he could help her. And would do so with every power and resource he had available to him.

  “And Arabelle?” He opened the door and stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “There is another reason I don’t plan to imprison you. I’ve been investigating your claims and—”

  “And you know it’s true now,” she said excitedly.

  “I know there have been vampire killings of humans at the palace, yes. And possibly even in Sylus itself.”

  “Then you’ll bring them to justice? The public will know—”

  “It’s not that simple.” He glanced outside, reaching out with his senses to be sure it was safe for her to leave. “I will bring them to justice. But the only penalty for blood madness is death. They will not surrender quietly. So do me a favor, will you?”

  “Wh-what favor?”

  “Don’t go getting into too much trouble. I’ll do all I can to make this right.”

  With one last indulgent drink of her face and figure, he slipped back outside and down the trail, moving into the shadows where he’d left Erebus. He waited for her to emerge. Once she was up on her mare and trotting back across the open hills toward Larkin Wood, he nudged Erebus to follow from a distance.

  Meandering slowly until she was out of sight but not out of scent range, he trailed her a good ways into the woods, until he thought he’d lost her. Impossible, for he wasn’t that far behind. Perplexed, he came upon a bed of wild ferns and fungus growing thick along the deer trail. Then a flickering of light caught his attention. Steering his horse through the bracken and overgrowth, he came upon a square of golden light in a small clearing. Arabelle dismounted quickly and entered the cabin.

  Glancing down at the fungus, he marveled at what she’d done. She must’ve planted this particular flora, knowing its pungent odor could mask human scent from vampires. Smart woman.

  But she had never accounted for the way she affected him. She wasn’t just any human. And he wasn’t just any vampire. And her scent was so embedded in his skin, through his flesh right down to his bones, that if he lived a million years, he’d never be rid of the need to find the woman who smelled like wildflowers and rain and who now owned a piece of his heart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Arabelle stood at the window, staring out as morning lightened the landscape. Deek and Barkley had their heads together around an upturned ale barrel in the yard, having already perused the map of their plan for the tenth time. Bruno sniffed around in the yard, his floppy ears dragging in the dirt, probably smelling Sienna’s wolves, who kept to the woods. She had arrived at dawn as she’d promised.

  This entire plan was Arabelle’s idea, yet she couldn’t stop wondering if it was the right course of action. After her encounter with the prince two days earlier, she’d thought of nothing else. His lips on her skin, his voice in her head, his hands everywhere. At first, she truly believed he’d hypnotized her somehow, that he’d conjured some old magic to put her under his spell. She even mentioned as much to Sienna when they were alone. She’d told her new friend about the encounter this morning, but no one else. And she hadn’t told all, only that she’d felt quite out of her right head in his presence. Sienna seemed to understand clearly what Arabelle meant.

  “They can’t hypnotize you,” Sienna said again. “That’s an old myth. But you don’t believe me, do you?”

  “How do you know such things?” asked Arabelle, leaving the window and joining Sienna in the other chair by the hearth.

  This morning was particularly chilly, uncharacteristically so for this time of year.

  “My grandmother,” said Sienna.

  “What about her?”

  “She was in love with a vampire.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  Sienna laughed. “When she was young. As a matter of fact, it was what drove her to build her cottage in the woods. Like me, she was born to be married off to the highest bidder. And when my grandfather died, she met a Legionnaire who swept her off her feet.”

  Arabelle shook her head in disbelief. “I can hardly believe it.”

  “Believe it. I have his letters to prove it.” Sienna’s mouth tilted sadly. “She loved him, but not enough to live with him forever.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t mean he wanted to, to make her one of them?”

  “Oh, yes. He begged her, she’d told me. He was a favorite of King Stephanus of Korinth. He knew the king would make her a vampire if he asked. He begged her endlessly so that her aging would slow and they could live together longer.”

  “And why didn’t she?” asked Arabelle, riveted by the story.

  “Vampires are cursed. She knew this, and she was unwilling to share that curse with him. Though she loved him, she wasn’t willing to trade her humanity for eternity, knowing she must become a blood drinker to do so.”

  “Even if that meant losing the man she loved?”

  “Yes.” Sienna laced her fingers together in her lap, staring into the fire. “Even so. She told me that their thirst was painful. She’d watched her vampire struggle in agony when he was thirsty, for he often denied himself what he needed, knowing it was the part of him she detested.”

  Arabelle stood and walked to the window again, her pacing a sure sign of her agitation. Ivan and Evan Barrow had joined Barkley and Deek in the yard. The entire inner circle would be here soon.

  Her heart clenched at the thought of Sienna’s grandmother leaving behind her vampire love. And she knew it had more to do with a certain tall, dark, and handsome prince who now invaded her every waking thought.

  “What finally happened to them? Did he stop going to her when she began to age?”

  “Oh, no. Long before then. That’s why she built the cottage deep in the heart of Silvane Forest. To be sure he’d never find her.”

  Arabelle turned, a wash of sorrow filling her chest. “How sad. She didn’t even enjoy the time they could have together?”

  Sienna shook her head, a frown puckering her perfect porcelain brow.

  “She told me she knew he was sacrificing his own well-being to be with her. She realized she was killing him. She wouldn’t allow him to drink from her. And she saw the pain in his eyes when he returned to her, rejuvenated with a fresh feeding, the guilt that he bore for doing what was only natural for him. He was being torn apart from the inside out. Quite literally.”

  Arabelle could easily imagine this scenario. The poor Legionnaire arriving to his lover only to find a look of censure in her eyes. A love would surely die under such conditions.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of her longing for Marius. But it was useless. Rather than shrink, it grew every day. Every hour. He wasn’t the tyrant she thought him to be when she’d tried to kill him. Quite the opposite. He was now in pursuit of the villainous vampires amongst his ranks, just as she was. The way he looked at her, the way he made her feel, the way he could undo her with a word, with a single brush of his lips on her skin. She felt herself falling into an unknown where she had no control. And she was terr
ified.

  “So she left him to save him,” said Arabelle, voice broken.

  “Yes. She left him to save him. And to save herself and what was left of their love. Her own heart was breaking as well.”

  A silence fell between them, and the men’s muffled voices rose in the yard. Someone laughed.

  “The reason I told you all that,” said Sienna, joining her by the window, “was to assure you that vampires cannot control the mind or will of a human through hypnosis.”

  “I see.” And she did see. Marius hadn’t hypnotized her the other night. Not by any unnatural means anyway. She remembered the way he’d stood there, a pillar of strength and power, his fingers buried inside her, his body caging her in, his hand gripping her nape, and his lips pressed to her hair. She’d loved it. But that wasn’t what frightened her most. It was that she’d wanted it again. Even more, she wanted his hard body covering her, thrusting inside her toward his own release. She wanted his dark, intimate embrace to keep her warm at night.

  “Are you all right?” asked Sienna.

  Arabelle blinked away those thoughts. “I’m, I’m so sorry for her, your grandmother. Living alone in the woods all her life.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t alone. The hart wolves kept her company. She raised Duchess and her brothers from pups.”

  “What? Really?” Arabelle was thankful to move the conversation away from the heartbreaking love of a vampire, the stinging behind her eyes bringing her too close to tears.

  “Yes. Their mother was killed by hunters, so Grandmother took her in. She wasn’t lonely. As I am not.”

  “And now you have me to visit you, so you definitely won’t be lonely,” said Arabelle.

  Sienna’s smile lit up the entire room. “Definitely not.”

  Arabelle calculated in her head. “So how old is Duchess and her brothers?”

  “Hmm, must be around sixty years old.”

  “I had no idea hart wolves lived so long.”

  “Oh, yes.” They watched through the window as more of the Black Lily gathered. “It’s the hartstone.”

  Arabelle had heard the fairytales of old about the hartstone, the stone of making, the very one that created the first vampire.