4 - We Are Gathered (4 page)

“Where are we going?”

“The station.”

“What station?”

“MTBA.”

“You’re taking me to the train station for a date?”

His lips quirked up on one side, hiding the smile. Or maybe he was hiding those fangs. Either way, it made her heart skip a beat. Or maybe it was just being in proximity to him.

“What is so amusing?”

“Later.”

Rori sighed. “That again? Well, let me tell you, ‘later’ better not include a round of moshing with some creepy vampire types, or another interrogation by your boss. Ok?”

As if she’d commanded it, he huffed, moving about to fetch his little cell thing. She watched him put it to his far ear and turn from her, almost whispering the words.

“Yes? Not tonight. Nigel has the codes. Thank you, but no. Very funny. Off.”

He did some more shifting about putting it back into a pocket somewhere and then looked back at her.

“Problems?”

“Nothing I need address now.”

“Are you always on call?”

“Not tonight. You heard me.”

They arrived at the train station. It was crowded. One good thing about crowds: it was easy to be invisible…unless one was being accompanied by a man as amazingly handsome and tall as Tristan. Rori stood looking up at the front of the building while Tristan paid the fare. He was garnishing what was probably his share of looks, while she got the snub. Nothing strange about that, but the jealous glares were completely abnormal. So she flicked a finger at one of the lights on their billboard and watched it burst with a shower of sparks that starting moving from one to the other, knocking them all out. Everyone about them looked up, and the next moment she was wrapped in Tristan’s cloak and unable to see anything but him.

“Good diversion. Now, hold to me.”

Rori snuggled into the space below his chin, melding as close as she could to material-covered muscle and really amazing abs. He didn’t have to ask. She didn’t want to move anywhere. The sense of belonging was too vast and totally visceral. And he wanted her. How had that happened? She was in his arms, with her mouth wide to devour the sensation. Tristan Navarre Invaris. Knight. The guy was gorgeous. Built. Sensual. Delicious-smelling. Her world had certainly changed.

Or, maybe not.

They landed lightly on a stone floor in a replay of last night. Rori looked down at it in disgust.

“What?”

“You brought me back to your version of Tirgoviste Castle?”

“Did you wish that?”

“Not especially.”

“Then no. This is not Tirgoviste Number Two.”

He opened his cape, allowing her to move away. She took a second or two longer than she needed to, but he was just so stirring! So moving! So—

“Later.”

He whispered it into the space above her head, his voice full of laughter. Rori’s immediate reply was to clap and watch the torches all flare brightly about them.

“You are learning your powers. You are even better than I was prepared to believe.”

“By whom?”

“Uh…later.”

“You know Tristan, with you holding all the answers and refusing to part with them is really going to make this a long, frustrating night.”

“Frustrating?” he asked.

“Oh yes. Totally.”

Rori reached toward him and ran her fingernail up the button placket of his shirt, watching each one pop off. She didn’t just hear him gulp, she felt it as her fingertips reached the bottom of his neck. Another touch parted the silk fully, giving her a perfect view of exactly what she’d felt every time she’d touched him. The guy was better than muscled. He was ripped. Completely and totally. Beyond anything she’d ever seen. Even more than the guy in the poster in their room.

“Poenari. We’re at Poenari Castle.” He choked on the name.

“You had this one re-made, too? Amazing. Let’s see…that’s thirty feet by one-eighty. Right?” Rori counted off steps to the width of the hall. It measured pretty close to thirty. A spin brought her right back to where Tristan stood, shirt gapped to display perfect male, while what looked like goose-bumps flew his skin. “You really have a fixation with Vlad Dracula, don’t you?”

“You know your history?”

“I’m majoring in the subject…with a few side trips into Theology.”

“The…ology?”

 His voice split, but that was her fault. Those
were
little goose-bumps, and they seemed to move outward from wherever she put her fingers. It was addicting. The more she traced the bumps of his abdomen, the harder and tighter his nipples got. That just made hers a match. She probably should’ve donned a bra, and the moment she thought it, she watched his eyes widen. She’d been off a little. They weren’t completely black. There was the warmest dark brown around the edges of completely captivating and stunning eyes. She watched as he shut them, shuddered beneath her touch, and was still watching when he looked back at her, and then licked his lips.

“It really fascinates me how much cause and effect religion has had on the world. Over time. Vlad Dracula wasn’t a real vampire. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded.

“So, why recreate his castles?”

“I knew him.”

“You met Vlad Dracula?”

“Well…no. I didn’t meet him. Gaining his attention was a dangerous thing. But I attended more than one of his impaling sessions.”

“Really? Why?”

“Blood.”

Rori made a face. “Oh.”

A strange buzz permeated the air. He grabbed for his pocket, moving muscle all over his bared chest. Her tongue flicked out to her lip over it. And then she reached and stopped his hand before he reached the pocket.

“I should get that.”

“You’re off tonight. Isn’t that what you said?”

“It’s not work.”

“No?”

“He’s offering advice.”

“Advice?”

Rori pulled back and studied him until two spots of color appeared at the tops of his cheeks. Everything about him enthralled and fascinated and bewitched her. She cocked her head to one side and waited. He moved his eyes to some of the stone view above and behind her.

“Yeah. Advice.”

“On what? Me?”

“No. Yes. Well…not specifically, but…yes. I mean, no.”

He flicked a glance to her and returned to studying the wall, while everything flushed on him, even his torso. She knew. She watched it happen.

“Okay. Let’s say it’s a maybe. What advice might he give you?”

“Uh…I’m a knight.”

“I already heard. Looks like you trained plenty hard and over a long time, too. That would explain all this…”

Her fingers did the journey for her, showing what she didn’t put in words. It wouldn’t have mattered. He knew what she was referring to. His trousers weren’t hiding much of it. The whiff of air against her hand held a groan; a lengthy one she didn’t have any trouble deciphering.

“You don’t understand. I’m a Knight…Hospitaler.”

“You were a Crusader Knight? A Hospitaler? Okay. If my history is correct, they built and manned the
Krak des Chevalier
, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a truly stunning piece of architecture. The most beautiful castle in the world. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually seen it. Did you have a hand in its construction?”

He nodded. And then he gulped. It had something to do with how she’d gone from touching him with just her fingertips, to roaming her entire hands all about his chest, and then lower belly, watching and enjoying every shiver, every gasp, and especially the size of his groin as it filled his fly to a straining level.

“How old are you, Tristan?”

“Uh…twenty-two.”

“In real years.”

“I can’t…recall. Seven hundred. No. Eight. And then sixty-three. Uh…”

Rori moved closer, grazing her abdomen against him, and thoroughly enjoyed the jump he made back from her. And then she knew. Her movements stopped, her palms fully settled about his waist, while his words sunk in. Her eyes went wide as she stared up at him. Tristan wasn’t looking at her. He had his eyes scrunched shut, while every muscle on him seemed locked to a coil pitch.

“Oh no. You didn’t make a vow of chastity, did you?”

He nodded.

“And…you still honor it?”

He shook his head.

“Truly?”

“That life died with me.”

Relief washed through her, sending warmth back to her fingers, and that made them even more ultra-sensitive to the flesh beneath them. The man was sending vibrations right to her very core, and they were getting answered with little lurches against him.

“I…don’t understand the issue, then. Don’t you want me?”

It was stupid to ask when the answer was poking against her waist, but she wanted to see him acknowledge it. He pulled in a deep shuddering breath, licked his lips, which just put razor sharp fangs on display and looked down at her, enveloping her in a cavern of warm and wonder with just the touch of his exhaled breath. Rori’s mouth gapped open to let the slightest moan escape.

“Yes.”

“Well…what, then?”

“I need your acquiescence.”

“Surely you’re joking. You can’t tell?”

His hands were around her waist, lifting her and holding her against him, so she could feel every shudder, every dip of his knees, each quivering breath. The response was immediate and harsh as her reaction ratchet to a truly primordial level. Her heart seemed to push into overdrive and every nerve ending wasn’t far behind.

“Please?”

“You’ve had seven hundred years to figure it out, Tristan. Surely, you can tell by now.”

“You don’t understand. I’m a vampire. There is no desire without our mate.”

“What?”

“I needed my mate. You.”

Hot breath touched her neck, followed by a scraping sensation, sending rockets of longing and desire to every portion of her. It almost overrode comprehension of what he’d just said, and then the light sucking motion obliterated every bit of conscience, as it sent her spirits right through the stone above her and into dark, endless sky.

“Wait. We need to talk. This mate thing… Oh, Tristan.”

Her back met the cool slick feel of tightly woven sheets, proving not only had he moved them to a structure resembling a bed, but he was perfectly adept at unfastening women’s clothing. All of which was a relief, and a worry at the same time.

“Yes?”

He was on his knees beside her, peeling the shirt off, moving more sculpted male than she could absorb. They were in a large enclosed bed, in what looked to be a stone-walled chamber, lit with his usual torchlight, and that just wasn’t fair. She wanted to see more. A lot more. He stopped his motion of yanking the shirt bottom from his beltline and looked over at her, and then started moving away.

“Where…are you going?”

“To get more light.”

“Get back here. Now.”

“You don’t wish more light?”

With him standing beside her bed, engorged male making a large sized lump in her line of sight, while flickers of golden glow touched his upper torso, she wasn’t surprised to find her mouth bone-dry.

“I…I don’t know.”

The mattress dented again as he entered it, this time on his hands and knees. The view was heart-stopping. Literally. She gasped to restart it, and that just had him crawling closer, leaning above her and breathing huge gulps of air all about her, making everything moist and heated, and way too bright.

“I go too fast?”

Rori gulped and then shook her head.

“Too slow?”

If he was going to raise one eyebrow while he asked it, he shouldn’t be surprised at the immediate reaction. Her entire frame pulsed right off the mattress and into his arms, as if directed there. Nothing had ever felt so right! Rori clung to him, bringing him down atop her when she sank back, but this time, roving her hands all about his back and shoulders, following every lump, every scar, every tensed muscle. Her thighs parted, allowing him room to fill the space, and then he just stopped. He pushed up, looking down at her with a fathomless black gaze, while making little surges against her, as if there weren’t at least two layers of material separating them.

“Rori.”

Her name sounded like a caress. It matched the one he placed atop her nose, before grazing his lips along it to her forehead. He added to it with whispered words in a foreign tongue, as well as the weight and pressure of his lower abdomen matching against hers.

“My
Friudil.
”

“What does that mean?”

“Sweetheart.”

“Uh…Tristan. We
really
need to talk.”

Her body made another lunge into him, making her whispered words sound that much more gauche. Trite. Stupid.

“Talk?”

“This…isn’t normal for me.”

“I do it wrong?”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. He looked so worried.

“No. Everything with you is perfect. It’s just—. I’m just—.”
Man!
This was harder than she’d suspected. “I’m not the type for casual sex. I don’t go to bed with a guy on a first date. I mean…not normally.”

“You don’t like a bed?”

“Look. You’ll think I’m a bit touchy…but I mean, I’m not like you.”

“True.”

He breathed the word against her earlobe, sending rivulets of shivers down her neck, over her shoulder, and from there it just went all through her frame, whispering of illicit wonders, promising craven delights, and guaranteeing massive satisfaction.

“I don’t want to be just another bedpost notch.”

“Bed post notch.”

“Or wherever you notch them.”

“What?”

“Conquests.”

A furrow started in his brow as he pondered it, narrowing his eyes as he just watched her. And then he smiled that killer smile of his.

“Rori, I was a crusader knight. You have nothing to fear from me.”

 “I’m not frightened. Uh…let’s just say it’s been awhile for me. You?”

“Me? It has been not ever,
Friudil
.”

“Ever?”

Her eyes went wide with comprehension. Shock fought the complete awe, and then it got chased away with such a huge sense of euphoria Rori shook with it. She was afraid her face might split with the grin.

“You’re not…disappointed?”

“I’m in awe, Tristan. Truly. I don’t know what to say.”