Broken Heart 08 Must Love Lycans (16 page)

“You were the experiment. If it had worked …” I trailed off, and he nodded.

“The full-bloods and Roma would truly be one people.” I knew that this was difficult for him. Damian was not a sharing kind of guy. I was pleased he was trying to connect with me again, that he recognized how he’d hurt me, and was trying to make up for it by talking about his own secrets and his own regrets.

“It was my idea to start the village. Full-bloods and Roma living and working together. The Roma tended to wander in small groups. They’ve always had restless hearts. And feet.” He flashed a smile. “But I was alpha of all lycans, so I created a council with full-bloods and Roma. I even had a vampire adviser—Ruadan. We had, earlier in our history, before mending the rift with the Roma, been protectors of the vampires.

“We built the village, learned to intermingle. Then I married Anna and she became pregnant. For a while, everything was good. Very good.”

“And then?”

“We were attacked. Our buildings burned. Our people slaughtered. My wife and our unborn children killed. I saw our babies. They were mutated. They would not have survived even had they gone to term.”

“I’m so sorry, Damian.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

“It couldn’t have been that long ago. You’re what? Maybe thirty-five?”

“Lycans age very slowly,” he said. “What I’ve told you took place more than sixty years ago.”

I stared at him. “How old are you?”

“It’s a discussion for another time.” His tone was stern. Then he paused, and offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “It’s the werewolf thing. It gives you immortality.”

“Werewolves are not immortal. Most live into their eight hundreds.”

“That’s almost like being immortal.”

He laughed, but it held no humor. “Eight hundred years isn’t close to being immortal.” He joined me on the bed, sitting close, and took my hand into his. “I did not bite Anna. Do you understand what that means? I married her, and took her to my bed, and put my seed into her womb, but I never gave her the protection of my bite. I never claimed her.”

“Why?”

“Duty takes a man only so far, Kelsey. I know my own heart—though there are some who claim I do not have one. It is very simple. I could not offer to Anna what was meant for another.”

“You loved someone else and married her anyway?”

“No.” He pressed my wrist against his lips; then he clasped my hand once more. “My mother used to say, ‘The heart wants what the heart wants.’ There is, I believe, within everyone a core that houses our truths. It is who we are, and who we were meant to be. Sometimes, we act out of accord with this place, and it will correct our course, however hard or dangerous, to achieve realignment. Or it will act for us, even before we consciously understand what we’re doing.”

“Our instincts.”

“That, yes, and more. Even when I didn’t know who I was, I recognized you. The truth of who you were was already locked inside me, waiting. I didn’t know my own mind, Kelsey, but I knew you.”

“You said I was like coming home.”

“Ja,”
he said roughly. “I could not stop thinking about your dinner date with Dante. I could not accept that you willingly went to another man when you were meant for me. Eventually I got so agitated that I shifted. Then I didn’t understand at all who I was, but I knew what I wanted. And I had your scent. The first time Dubowski shot me, whatever was in the disc reverted me to human form, but it held no sway over my intentions.”

“That’s why you showed up naked.”

He nodded. “I claimed you because I knew, as I know now, that you are mine. I regret that you had no choice, that I could not control myself.”

“If you hadn’t taken me, Dante would have.”

Damian growled.

“Not by force,” I defended, though I didn’t know why. I was angry with Dante, with his machinations. “But eventually he would’ve gotten what he wanted. It’s who he is.”

“You should have had a choice.”

“I do,” I said. “I still do.” I cupped his face. “Your mother was right. The heart wants what the heart wants. It doesn’t matter how we got here … we’re here. And we can worry all day about the realness of it all, or we can let go and see where it takes us. I’m willing. Are you?”

“Yes,” he said. He let the gates open then, and his emotions shattered my shields in an instant. There was pain and sorrow and hope and desire and … so much more, all with color and words I didn’t quite understand. It was such a jumble, and I knew he was trying to show me how willing he was, and it was both wonderful and terrible.

I blinked at him. “I expected more blustering and glowering.”

“I do not bluster or glower,” he said, his lips quirking. In his gaze, I saw passion tempered by tenderness.

Then something changed between us, in that moment, just as quick and bright as lightning strike.

“Permit me,” he whispered.

I couldn’t speak, so I nodded.

And Damian kissed me.

You know in romance novels when the cute hero kisses the sassy heroine? There’s this single quiet moment before his lips descend—it’s a nanosecond freeze frame of longing and accepting the inevitability of their passion and then finally, oh
finally
, his mouth gently claims hers and her belly quivers and his heart pounds and everything feels perfect?

Yeah. Damian’s kiss wasn’t like that.

He didn’t woo my lips into compliance.

He conquered.

It was hot and messy and … and thrilling.

My belly didn’t quiver. My whole body did. His passion poured into me, and all I felt was
his need, his need, his need
for me.

He wanted
me
. Not just a woman. Not just sex. Me. Only me. It was a raw feeling, jagged with desperation, with a yearning that was soul-deep.

I had never been wanted.

Not by anyone.

His tongue swept boldly into my mouth, and I met his fervent demands for submission. I offered him everything, and he took it. It was his due. His right.
I am the royal alpha.
And I knew that I would be his. I was always his. This was where I belonged. With him.

His fingers ran through my hair; his nails scraped my scalp. He pulled on my hair until I was forced to expose my neck. Then he nipped my bottom lip, and continued those erotic love bites down my throat—a fervid line of need drawn with teeth and tongue.

Once again, Damian’s feelings were color and sound. So different, so much
more,
than any I’d experienced before. Red clung to me like a silk cloak, and the words beat like primitive drums:
Mine, mine, mine.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

“All of you,” he murmured. He pressed lips against the hollow at the base of my throat. “I want all of you.”

“S-sex?” I yelped.

He pulled back and looked at me, and I saw how scarily close he was to losing it. He had iron control, I knew that, but it was thin. Even if my empathic abilities weren’t on alert already, the look in his eyes was proof enough of the danger.

“I will not take from you, Kelsey. Not ever. You must give yourself freely. But you must decide now. Decide, or I will have to break my promise to leave you so I can … regain control.”

“I’m a virgin,” I blurted.

Damian’s mouth dropped open.

“I don’t have a hymen, of course. I mean, I’ve been to the gynecologist and all, and I’m big fan of masturb—oh, I see that you … um, don’t want to know that part. Long story, short. I’m a virgin in the sense of never having sex.”

“Never,” he repeated in a stunned voice.

“I’ve gotten close-ish. It’s complicated.” I made a face. “I want to have sex. With you. Of course, with
you
. Only you. But I figured you should know what you’re getting into. Oh, God.” The heat of embarrassment swept over my cheeks. “I didn’t mean literally.”

“You did, actually.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess so.” Misery crawled inside me and squatted like an unwelcome guest. “Me being a virgin changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He hadn’t let go of me, but I could feel his withdrawal. His passion burned as hot as ever, but his logical mind had taken over. He was already harnessing his emotions, tucking them away into those little boxes he kept in his figurative heart.

“Don’t reject me.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? Could I sound any more pathetic? Well, truth was truth. I wanted him like I wanted no other man. No, no other
life
. I didn’t want to be turned away.

“I have claimed you,” he said, brushing aside my hair to touch the bite mark.

I swallowed convulsively. “No,” I said. “You haven’t.”

It was both the wrong and the right thing to say. It was jumping off the cliff and knowing the inexplicable joy of free fall mere seconds before the slamming into the earth.

One moment I was sitting on the edge of the bed, Damian’s hand curled around my shoulder, and the next moment, I was flat on my back with my T-shirt shredded and a very aroused shape-shifter straddling me.

“This is the only opportunity you will have to change your mind.” His voice almost a growl.

“I’m yours,” I said.

He left the bed only to rid himself of his own clothes, and I watched him hungrily. I’d seen him naked before, but this time I would get to touch him, feel him, take him.

I started to tremble.

He returned to me, kneeling between my thighs, his hair flowing over his shoulders like black silk.

He ripped off my panties.

Then he destroyed my bra.

My heart thumped wildly. He was glorious—a god who’d deigned to lay with a mortal woman. He feasted only with his eyes, his gaze burning, and his passion … barely contained. I couldn’t deny that I had unleashed a creature I didn’t understand.

I feared him.

But I would not deny him.

He lifted my legs. As he leaned down, he placed them over his shoulders, that beautiful hair sliding along my flesh, and then he was kissing me … you know,
there
.

Then he started to lick.

And I died.

Well, I stopped breathing long enough to die, but then I got distracted by the pleasure sparkling through me like stardust.

My thighs shook, and I grabbed on to his skull because I felt like I was gonna float off the bed any second.

Damian’s very talented, persistent tongue would’ve been enough, really, but Damian hadn’t forgotten about our little session in the kitchen. If Elizabeth and Tez hadn’t arrived, I might’ve well lost my virginity on the kitchen table (which wouldn’t have been a bad thing … note to self: Check sturdiness of kitchen table). He sent his passion into me. On purpose. I could feel it like an ocean wave, rolling toward me, inevitable, and the heat of his need, and the deep, dark red of it, and the words, oh the words …
beautiful
…
mine
…
perfect
…
she’s perfect
.

And his mouth was on me, his tongue rasping over my clit, and my own lust crashed with his … and then I was crying out, my fingers digging into his hair, my hips arching, and …
ohmyfreakinggod
.

Yeah. It was like that.

Only times infinity.

And I was shaking, and crying, and he was gently lowering my legs onto the bed, like they were ceramic, and then he was kissing my hips and letting his hands trail down my thighs. He was murmuring, in German, and he moved over me like a dark lord, a conqueror, and he was … he really was.

He covered me, his cock pressing hotly against the vee of my thighs. I was still slick, still throbbing and swollen. His thick length offered the sweetest kind of torture.

I moaned.

“There’s more,” he promised.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Just a little,” he admitted with a raspy chuckle.

My hands coasted over his shoulders, over the corded muscles of his back. His skin wasn’t smooth. It was marked with little dips and lines; I understood the lines, I had a few of those, too, thanks to Robert’s dagger.

Damian nipped my neck, his sharp teeth scraping my flesh. My heart fluttered like a wounded bird; and my lungs were no help at all. I was gasping and panting, but so was he—although his harsh breathing was punctuated by the occasional growl.

And every time he did, my womb clenched. There was something powerful about making a werewolf growl (at least during sex).

He claimed my mouth, his tongue mimicking no doubt what his cock would soon do, and I felt another slow building of bliss. He wasn’t moving his hips, but the weight of his shaft was enough to make my clit very, very happy.

He released my mouth, and leaned down to suckle my aching nipples.

Electricity zapped me.

I squeezed his buttocks, which was apparently code for “move slowly and torment Kelsey until her eyes cross and her lungs collapse.”

I clung to him, my body straining toward another peak.

He cupped my bottom, rubbing against me in earnest now, his lips clamped around one nipple.

I soared into sparkling pleasure once more, my nails digging into his ass.

I think I screamed, too.

After about a year, I managed to get some air into my lungs. Then I said, “My turn.”

He gave a rough bark of laughter. “Greedy, aren’t you?”

“I meant my turn to torment you,” I managed.

“Too late for that,
Schätzchen
.”

I pushed on his massive shoulders until he rolled onto his back. I straddled his hips, and he groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Now you are killing me.”

“Just a little.” The hard length of his penis pressed against me and I shuddered at the erotic contact. His hands drifted to my hips; the warmth and strength of his stroking fingers were distracting me. Now that I had Damian where I wanted (er … I think), I wasn’t sure what to do.