Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (22 page)

She patted her lap once she had the shoes securely on her feet and looked up to him. The curved tops of the boots reached her knees, leaving only a bit of exposed skin peeking out from the hem of her dress. He was suddenly breathing heavy.

She stood. “Are you ready?”

He seemed to have lost the ability to even blink. He simply stood there, dumb, watching her. She flicked her long hair over her shoulder impatiently, the motion causing her breasts to jiggle slightly. When he still did not answer, she said, “Bishop King?”

“Call me Eleazar,” he rasped. His fingers twitched at his side. He wanted to touch her.

She frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I want you to call me Eleazar.”

“I—”

“Please.” His voice sounded gravelly even to his own ears. “Say my name, Larissa.”

“Bishop—”

“Eleazar. Say it.”

She leaned back slightly, as his gaze traveled over her long form. She still frowned. “Fine, Eleazar…are…are you all right?”

“No.” His name on her tongue did erotic things to his mind and body.

She tilted her head at him in concern, but made no move to approach him. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, her scent filling his lungs with each pull. “Is there something you need?”

“Patience. I need patience.”

Her brow creased even more. “Bishop—”

“Eleazar.”

She shook her head. “Eleazar, perhaps you should sit. You’re acting a bit
Unfershtendich.
”

He supposed he was behaving a bit absurdly. She shifted uncomfortably before him. So feminine, even the simplest movement seemed that of a proper, well-bred lady when coming from her. She was completely female. Tall, beautiful, delicate, soft. She was breathtaking.

“Larissa,” he whispered, simply needing to say her name, needing to feel some part of her on his tongue.

“Yes, Bishop?”

He swallowed. “I need…”

She leaned in, prompting him to continue. He could tell she was eager to help him if he was not feeling himself.

“I need…” He shook his head. He could not seem to stop himself. “You.”

Her body pulled back suddenly, her spine ramrod straight, her expression completely frozen. She looked to the door then back to him. The slight panic coming off of her only aroused him more. His beast wanted to play, his animal instincts exciting at the idea of a chase. He watched the thin column of her throat where her pulse fluttered. She stepped back and he stepped forward. They stood, squared off, and he watched, wondering how she would proceed.

Her hand slowly lifted, holding him off. “Bishop, you are not well. Whatever is happening here, you need to stop it. You are not thinking clearly.”

“I asked you call me by my name.”

“I am not comfortable with that.”

“I suggest you become comfortable with it,
bellissima.
”

“Why?”

“Because I would not want my mate to call me anything else.”

She frowned and then comprehension dawned and her eyes widened. She stumbled back. “You’ve made a mistake, Bishop.” She shook her head frantically.

He stepped forward. “No mistake, Larissa, you are mine.”

“No,” she breathed.

“You see, I will take you home, but I will not be returning you to Silus.”

She frantically shook her head, denying his words. “This cannot be. I have not dreamed.”

“Because you do not sleep.”

“I sleep.”

“But never soundly. I assure you, if you allowed yourself to truly let go and gain a restful slumber, you would dream and discover the truth of my claim.”

“No.”

“Do you not feel it? This connection we share. It cannot be one-sided. There has been no mistake. You are my mate.”

“You’re upset. You’re upset with the way I spoke to you. You’re confused. Let us be on our way. When we get to the farm, I will send for the healer and he will fix whatever ails you.”

“What ails me is lust.”

His words had her stepping back another two steps. She was terrified of intimacy it seemed. Her hand trembled as it extended in front of her, a meager attempt to ward him off. “Please don’t do this, Bishop. You are mistaken.”

“It is you who are mistaken, Larissa. You will see. When we come together, it will be nothing like you have ever known. It is God’s will and as such it will be beautiful and right. There shall be no wrongness between us. Nothing like your past experiences.”

“What do you know of my experience?” she spat. “You know nothing!”

“He should have never had you.”

“Then why did you give me to him?”

“He will never touch you again.”

“Neither will you,” she declared, extending her neck and straightening her shoulders in defiance. He growled and saw the flicker of uncertainty trip across her face.

“Not wise, Larissa.”

“I am not afraid of you.”

“Good.” Before she had a chance to predict his move, he lunged at her. She shrieked as he caught her in his arms, her cry stifled as he sealed his lips over hers. A jolt of pleasure soared from his mouth directly to his loins. The force of his advance had them flying across the room until he held her pinned against the wall. He pressed his body ruthlessly into hers. Her palms pressed into his shoulders, her nails digging into the muscled flesh below his shirt.

He forced his tongue between her stiff lips and as he began to lick at her mouth, he felt her resistance slip. He purred at the first taste of her sweetness and her spine relaxed slightly. He kissed her long and hard and while she made no move to return his affections, she stopped fighting him. He ground his hips into the cradle of her thighs.

When her fingernails scraped along his scalp, sparks flickered up his spine. He trailed his mouth to the corner of her lips, along her jaw and down her throat. He yanked the rose-colored sweater off of her smooth shoulder and licked and sucked at her flesh. The thin strap of her dress fell easily to her elbows as he tugged the dress away.

Using his lower back, he pressed her thighs apart and held her body in place against the wall. Her breasts, now completely exposed, swayed between them, the raspberry tips tight and pointed. Lowering his head, he pulled one berry-tipped nipple into his mouth and Larissa cried out, her back arching as her head fell farther against the wall. He pulled on the tender tip, savoring the flavor of her clean flesh.

Her open thighs accepted the ridge of his erection as he ground it into the fabric covering her sex. He felt her moisture seeping through both his clothing and her own. The proof that he was affecting her seemed only an aphrodisiac to his already-over stimulated senses. His fangs extended and he released her nipple from his mouth with a pop. The tips of her breasts were darker now, beautiful and wet, from his tongue. He licked up her throat and noticed her mouth slightly opened, her small, white fangs peeking past her lips, still swollen from his kiss.

Eleazar lifted her from the wall and quickly carried her to her bed. He pressed her down into the soft blankets, causing her lingering scent to disperse into the air around them. He took her nipple back in his mouth and suckled hard enough that the darkened tip tickled the back of his tongue. Sitting back on his knees, he began to peel her dress the rest of the way down her arms, wanting her touch. Her eyes opened and she seemed to just then notice that they had moved from the living room to the bedroom. Using his hands, he pressed her thighs apart. He needed to taste her.

When her knees suddenly snapped closed, he stilled. Looking at her, he saw that he had lost her. She stared at him with eyes the size of saucers, her lip trembling and her arms protectively wrapped around her shoulders, shielding her breasts from his view.

“Larissa, don’t—”

“Get off of me,” she whispered.

He hesitated only a moment and then lifted himself off of her and moved to the edge of the bed. He ran his hand over the back of his neck, pinching the tension developing there. He could hear her breathing, but did not look at her. He wanted to be in her head, see what she was thinking, but knew she would not allow the intrusion.

After several minutes of silence, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”

When she did not answer, he turned to her. She did not seem to hear his question. She stared blindly at the ceiling as tears streamed silently down from her eyes, dampening her dark hair. Her arms still clutched her chest defensively and her chin trembled uncontrollably.

Eleazar sighed. He did not wish to do this to her. Turning, he carefully slipped his arms under her shoulders and knees and pulled her to his chest. She stiffened, but he soothed her. “Shh. It is okay, Larissa. We did nothing wrong. Let me simply hold you.”

Like a child unable to cope any longer, she seemed to break in his arms. Her face turned to his chest and she began to silently sob. Even her tears seemed to be shed somewhat stoically. He knew she would hate that he was seeing her in such a vulnerable state, displaying any signs of weakness, so he simply held her in silence, rocking her as she cried, offering the only comfort he could at that moment.

Chapter 13

Cain swept his arm out in front of him, fingers spread like a fan, and slowly pulled a gust of wind over the wooded area. He was careful not to disturb the decaying body lying under the new-fallen leaves. Another female victim, another attack by whatever was haunting the woods, Cain was certain the predator was vampyre.

The victim’s body was desecrated and bloodless, left like a forgotten rag doll alone in the forest. From what he could deduce, the mortal woman had been hiking. It was never wise to hike alone in these steep hills. To Cain’s thinking, it was plain stupid to do so with a predator on the loose. Still, he sympathized for the victim and any family she may have left behind.

He knew the police would soon begin an investigation once she was reported missing. He felt that if she did have loved ones looking for her, they deserved at least some degree of closure, so he left her body where it was. He only altered the surroundings and any evidence of a struggle.

He found footprints. The attacker was shoeless. It had confused Cain when he saw that the prints were much smaller than the last set he had come across, smaller than his own. They were petite and only lightly pressed into the claylike ground, as if left by a female. The compression showed that the attacker was slight in weight, but the trajectory of the markings showed impressive speed. While he feared this was the work of his uncle at play, he now thought differently.

As he forced the wind to dispel the evidence, he noticed claw marks on a nearby tree trunk. They were lower than a male’s reach. Yet another cause to believe the attacker was female. What he did not understand was why the victim was violated so if the attacker was not male. He moved carefully around the body. Picking up a nearby branch, he slowly nudged debris out of his way. There, to the left of the victim’s leg, was a handprint larger than her own, larger than any female. As he had feared, there was more than one predator lurking in these woods.