Dark Guardian (42 page)

Jaxon turned her face away from the awful finality of that scene, but the sucking sound and the shrieks would echo for a long time in her head as Lucian extracted the heart of the creature and tossed it some distance from the body. There was no hatred or anger in Lucian, no remorse or guilt. There was no contempt or disgust or feelings of any kind that Jaxon could detect. He simply carried out his responsibility, separate from his emotions. It took her a few moments to realize he had not had access to emotion for centuries, and in battle his mind simply functioned as it had for over two thousand years.

Jaxon was so exhausted she could barely stumble her way to the rocks, where she could sit and escape the river of poisonous blood soaking the ground. She didn't want to see the vampire's body as it flopped and writhed on the ground, forever seeking its pulsating heart. She kept her face averted as Lucian gathered energy from the skies to direct straight to the heart so that it incinerated the organ into fine ash. She felt the heat from the white-hot ball of flames sweeping the ground to cleanse the earth of poisonous blood, knew the exact moment it destroyed the body.

The wind scattered the ashes and took the noxious odor far from them. Lucian walked over to her and sat down so that their bodies were touching. "It is done."

Jaxon heard his voice, soft and gentle as always, and when she looked up at him, his features were the same, beautifully masculine, rugged, perfect. Still, Jaxon felt his exhaustion, the hunger beating at him that he kept at bay with his strict discipline. It was there in his mind. She also found the reason for his delay in getting to the surface. The vampire had devised a trap, crude but effective. As Lucian had raced through the tunnels hollowed out by the vampire, a pack of rats had rushed behind him, attacking, biting, sent to slow him. As he fought them off, the tentacles shooting above ground had swarmed over and around him, pinning him in the earth long enough for the viper to inject a compound of poison into his system.

Jaxon gasped, her heart slamming hard at the explosion of pain she discovered in his memories. It was a lethal poison, a complex mix the vampire had manufactured that moved with speed throughout the nervous system, causing excruciating pain as it ate at the cells, gobbling them up as it replicated itself. It had taken Lucian a few minutes to slow the poison, analyze it, and manufacture the antibodies necessary to drive it from his system.

"I can't believe you were able to do that," she said, awed. "How can anyone do that? Drive the poison out of his own body?"

"It is not unusual for our people to do such things. Sometimes it is done by pushing the poison out through the pores. This was more like a battle—indeed, in the midst of a battle—because the poison was a combination of several very lethal compounds. Rather extraordinary for a vampire to concoct. I am sorry I had to disconnect, but you would have felt the pain, and that I could not allow." His arm circled her slender shoulders. "Besides I knew you would handle things aboveground until I was able to reach you."

"You monitored me even though I couldn't tell what was happening to you," she said with some annoyance. "That's how you helped me, isn't it? How come you know what I'm doing when we aren't merged together? I ask just in case the information comes in handy someday—for instance, when I get tired of your arrogance and decide to have a flaming affair. Or better yet, when I want to make certain you aren't running around on me." She was running her hands over his body to assure herself he was fine.

His hand cupped her chin so that he could look into her enormous eyes, eyes that held a hint of the fire within her. "You seem disturbed, honey." His voice was a drawling, teasing caress.

"Absolutely I am," she vowed, but she had to look away from him or she would have burst out laughing.

Either that or kiss him. "You 'allow' me to be your partner, but you wrap me up in cotton wool as if I were a porcelain doll. I should know what's happening to you all the time, just in case you have need of me."

"I understand your nature, angel, probably better than you understand it, and I'm willing to provide you with everything you need to make you happy. But you have to understand, I will never allow your life to be placed in any real danger. If I cannot adequately protect you in a situation, you are not to be there. That is all there is to it. You are not to be there." He said it softly, gently, like a lover. His voice made her heart somersault and set butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

She sighed and shook her head, knowing she was lost. He didn't understand fairness, equality. He understood she was a woman.
His
woman. His nature demanded he protect her. To him, "compromise" meant she could be with him, even aid him, but only under specified conditions. Jaxon shook her head again before dropping it onto his arm. "I'm tired, Lucian. I've never been this tired before. How many hours before the sun rises and I can get some sleep?"

"You need to feed, my love. We both need to feed. To do the things we did requires tremendous energy. You do not have the stamina for such battles. You are very…" He trailed off when her head snapped up and she glared at him.

"If you say
small
or
little
or anything stupid like that, I'm going to show you that penchant for violence you say I have."

His long lashes swept down for a moment, concealing the laughter in his eyes. He felt that was far more prudent than revealing it. "I think we should get out of here and find prey."

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. "Did you have to use that word? You probably did it on purpose just to make me crazy. I don't hunt
prey
. People are not
prey
."

His immaculate white teeth gleamed at her. "I like stirring you up, honey. You have this one expression that does something to my insides." He stood up, a rippling of muscle and power, holding out a hand to her. "Come on, we have a long way to go this night. And do not feel too much pity for ones such as these." He waved his hand to encompass the ground where the three vampires had been slain. "This was the one who orchestrated the killings in the station house and went after your partner, Barry. These beings are without souls. They are wholly evil. I can feel your sorrow, my love, and I ache for you. I cannot bear it when you feel so sad."

She slipped her hand into his. "I'm fine, Lucian. I really am. There's just so much depravity in the world, so many sick people."

He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth. "Not here. Not where we are."

Chapter Sixteen

Lucian returned to the underground cavern, entering silently. He had fed well, knowing Jaxon was in great need of sustenance. His first duty, his first
need
, was to provide for his lifemate. He had found several campers miles away from them and had drunk long and deep so that he could provide for Jaxon.

She was standing on a flat rock overlooking a pool. It was hot in the cave, and she had clothed herself in a long gossamer skirt that wrapped loosely around her slender figure, clinging here and there, giving him intriguing glimpses of her shapely legs when she moved. She wore a thin blouse knotted beneath her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. Little beads of sweat trickled down the valley between her breasts in invitation.

Lucian allowed his body to respond, hard and hot and needy. He glided across the cave, his shirt floating to the floor as he made his way to the rock and came up close behind her. Without touching her he bent to whisper close to her neck, "I can feel your hunger beating at me." His voice was soft, seductive. His hands came down on her shoulders, moved lightly down her arms, traced the sweeping line of her back to her waist. Bare satin skin. He caressed the small of her back, the line of her hips beneath the gossamer skirt, moved his hands around to trace her buttocks—to find she wore nothing beneath the filmy material.

His breath caught in his throat, molten lava moving through his blood, spreading heat and fire to pool low in a hard, throbbing ache. She leaned into him, tilting her head back, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat, thrusting her breasts upward invitingly as she reached back to circle his neck with one arm.

"Smell my blood, angel, calling to you. I'm hot and hard, and I need you feeding." He needed the feel of her mouth on him, the erotic sensation of her sharing the essence of his body, his life.

Lucian circled her body to cup her breasts, to feel the weight of them through the thin fabric of her blouse. Only the small knot kept them from spilling free into his palms. "I want you, my love, right now," he whispered against the nape of her neck, one hand slipping down to follow the curve of her hip, to find the slit in the gossamer skirt so he could shape her leg, trace her thigh, move his hand to find the damp heat beckoning in the nest of tiny curls.

She moaned softly, his need merging with hers, his erotic images dancing in her mind, heightening her own desire, heating her blood. She pressed back against him, feeling the hard length of him, picking up the seductive rhythm of his fingers as he delved deep into her secret velvet sheath. Heat and fire. Flames licking over her skin. Her body coiling tighter and tighter. His desire pounding like a jackhammer in her head, in hers. She was aware of his hand at the knot beneath her breasts, the material suddenly gaping open, spilling her aching breasts into view of his hungry eyes. One hand found softness, his thumb caressing her nipple into a hard peak.

"Do you want me, Jaxon?" he asked softly, his voice husky with need.

"Very much," she replied, barely able to force the words out of her throat. "I need you, Lucian, need you in me, your blood flowing into me, your body in mine." And she did. More than anything, she needed to feel his body taking possession of hers. The heat of the cavern was in her body, all around her, the need for his blood in her mouth. She wanted him like this, hard and hot and hungry for her. She wanted those images dancing in her mind for all time.

She bent her head back even more as he leaned over her body, her arm bringing his head closer so that she could find his throat, his thick, muscular neck. Unerringly she found his pulse, pounding erratically, the telltale evidence of his intense desire. Against her back she could feel the heat of his skin, the muscles of his chest, the slamming of his heart in synchronization with hers. She arched her breast more fully into his palm, her hips finding the rhythm of his fingers. Her mouth moved over his pulse, breathed warm seduction, and felt it jump beneath her swirling tongue. She pressed back against him to feel him thick and hard through their clothes. Her teeth nipped, scraped, teased. She smiled when he groaned and offered her his throat, his palm grinding harder into the softness of her breast, his fingers stroking deeply. Her body clenched seductively around his fingers, taking him deeper, pushing against his hand for more. She moved in restless, wanton invitation against him.

She answered his tremendous need in the ancient way of their people, sinking her teeth deeply so that white-hot lightning danced through his body, through hers, lashing at them with fiery strokes. He groaned again, the sound, erotic and husky, tearing from his throat as her hips moved against his hand, her body shuddering with pleasure. The feel of her mouth was driving him crazy. His slacks were far too cumbersome against his sensitive skin, growing tighter and tighter as his body swelled with need. She fed sensuously, her body undulating against his, her buttocks pressing against him, the friction an enticement, a temptation.

She turned then in his arms, closing the pinpricks with a flick of her tongue, her hands at the buttons of his trousers, knuckles brushing his hot skin. His fist found her hair and clenched it tightly while he closed his eyes and threw back his head, savoring the freedom as he sprang free, hot, throbbing, thick, and hard. Her nails raked him lightly, her fingers moving over him in the exact way his mind anticipated. Her hands glided over his waist, his flat, hard belly, thumbs hooking in his trousers and pushing them down his thighs. The feel of her hands was driving him crazy. The very air around them was heavy with their combined scents, with the intensity of their hunger.

With his mind firmly in hers, she knew what he wanted, what his body was demanding, what was driving him over the edge. Lucian's body shuddered as her tongue caught the beads of sweat rolling down his belly, following the trail to find him swelling even more. He was velvet over iron, hot and needy.

Jaxon's mouth was tight and moist and perfect as he thrust helplessly over and over, his fists clenched in her hair. When he looked down at her, the sight was so erotic, her blouse open and her breasts thrust forward, her nipples hard and erect, the filmy skirt nearly transparent, its slit exposing her leg and thigh. Her hands were moving over him, never still, cupping his weight, delving into the firmness of his buttocks, running up and down the column of his thighs. She looked exotic and beautiful and was giving them both such exquisite pleasure he thought they might go up in flames.

He had to tug her to him, bring her against the hard strength of his body, hold her tightly so that he could feel every inch of her satiny skin. She was delicate beneath his exploring palms, fragile, a perfectly formed woman, and he had every sweeping line, every curve, committed to memory. He found himself murmuring to her in the ancient language, words of love, of commitment, words he had never spoken to another being in the eternity of his existence.

Words for her. Words only she gave meaning to. He loved her, every inch of her, worshiped her, mind and body and soul. His hands were gentle as he laid her down, finding a soft bed on the rich soil, using her gossamer skirt for a sheet. The sight of her lying there looking so trustingly, so lovingly up at him took his breath away. Time and space fell away. In his world there was only Jaxon. Her need of him, her hunger for him, was in her dark eyes, on her face. It was in her mind. Wherever he led, she intended to follow him, a willing partner.