Eventide: The Dark Ink Chronicles (17 page)

The moon, rising higher, bathes Eli in a silvery hue, making him look like the surreal, mystical, cryptic vampire he is.

Every bit the fierce and loyal vampire he truly is.

Magnificent.

It makes my heart race.

A biting wind whips through the air, stirring the canopy above, and carrying with it anticipation, excitement, as though the wild Carpathians knew what was up, what was about to occur, and waved their encouragement.

An ancient feel accompanies that wind, and it makes a tingle cross my spine, wrap around each vertebra, and nip. I’ve gone too long without Eli, without feeling like myself, and although I don’t even know who myself is anymore, there is one constant now that feels right. Him. I shiver, and Eli grasps my fingers as though he knows, without words, without being able to read my mind, what I feel. He probably does. Silently, we walk. I’m not sure how long we walk like that, fingers laced, shoulders brushing, but it’s a while. How Eli knows where he’s going is a mystery to me. I simply trust him and soon, a small stone lodge appears. Smoke trails from a single chimney. It’s not the same place he’d taken me to before. Without a word, he leads me up the walk and through the front door. Inside, all is dark except the embers burning red in the hearth.

He retrieves a large quilt thrown over the back of a sofa, and he lays it on the floor in front of the fire. Kneeling there, he grabs a poker and stokes the embers, adds
a log until the flame grows. I stand silently, watching the play of light lick his face, his jaw, and throw his eyes in shadow. To me he is the most breathtaking soul I’ve ever laid eyes on. Then Eli rises and turns. His eyes lock on to mine. We say nothing. Only stare.

Everything freezes in that moment as Eli stands, staring, the light from the fire glinting off his hungry eyes. Ancient eyes that know secrets, have powers, have seen so many things. He could have anything and anyone in the world that he wanted. A rich, high society, untarnished young woman, maybe.

Yet, he chooses to be here, with me. With me and all of my tarnishes.

My pulse quickens, as fast as it will anyway, and blood rushes on powerful thrusts in my veins as I lock eyes with his. Eli’s muscular chest rises and falls in a rapid, irregular rhythm, his jaw flexing, making the shadows jump on his face.

“Take off your boots and socks.”

I blink. Before, my first reaction to the blatant, male command would have been
go fuck yourself
. Only Eli all but quivers with forced restraint, and he doesn’t command me as a domineering barbarian or a mind-controlling vampire, but as a wild, hungry Alpha who’s just found a delectable morsel he wishes to savor, make last, instead of gobbling it up.

Without a word, I toe off my boots. Since I have no
socks, I now stand with bare feet on the smooth wood floor.

“Your jeans.”

Heat pools in my lower stomach as I unclasp each button, keeping my eyes on Eli’s. So erotic a feeling, him watching my fingers work the buttons loose, that when my thumb brushes my panties, just inside the fly, it makes me shudder. I stifle a gasp, and wish it was Eli’s hand there instead. Now. Not later.

Eli’s nostrils flare.

The last button undone, I ease the material over my hips, the feel of soft worn denim scraping my permanently smooth legs, giving me goose bumps. I drop the jeans to the floor, then step out of them.

“Kick them aside.”

I kick them.

“Take off your shirt. Slowly.”

With a ragged breath, I unsnap my long-sleeved shirt, pull my arms out, and drop it. Grasping the hem of my tank top I lift it, one inch at a time, over my stomach, ribs, then over my head. I drop it atop my pile of clothes.

For a moment, Eli simply stares. He licks those full, sensual lips, catches the bottom one between his teeth, then swallows.

“Your bra. Don’t take it all the way off. Just unclasp it.”

I glance down and reach for the clasp.

“Look at me.”

Lifting my head, I keep my gaze on Eli’s as I finger the small metal clasp between my breasts. My breathing becomes more rapid, watching him stare at me like a ravaged animal, his sexy French accent deepening to a primal, barely controlled tone each time he speaks a command.

Wetness dampens my panties, so turned on am I by Eli’s blatant display of desire and control. I throb with need, just below the very thin surface of the silk material covering me. I wait, watch, anticipate. I
want
.

Eli steps closer, then slowly circles me, the air stirring from his body’s movement the only part of him touching me. His alluring scent envelops me, drugs me, and I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head with desire. God, I want him
yesterday
.

He leans close and smells me, but keeps moving in a slow, predatory ring, almost as though he was staking his claim, marking his territory, stalking his prey. Then, in a deep, purred whisper, tinged with French, he brushes my ear with his lips.

“Are you wet for me, Riley?”

“Yes,” I answer, my breath ragged.

He keeps moving, his boyish fall of dark hair brushing my bare shoulder as he leans close, making me shiver. “It’s been a long time, Ri. This time, no interruptions.”
He stops behind me, his head close to my ear, his whisper a deep purr. Yet we’re still not touching, and it sends vibrations of pleasure across my skin. “I’m going to bury myself deep inside of your tight wetness, feel your muscles grip my hard length as you take all of me in,” he whispers erotically and licks my lobe, his breath caressing my cheek. “Make me come. But first,” he says, his raspy words vibrating against my throat, making me shiver with excitement, “I’m going to make you lose control right where you stand.”

Never have I been so worked up, so turned on. Every nerve ending hums with power, ready to unleash the energy simmering in my veins. So erotic are his words, his voice, his promise, that sexy accent, I have to clench my female muscles to keep from coming right then. I reach for him.

“Don’t touch me, Riley. Just
feel
.”

He moves behind me, still fully clothed, and brushes my hair to the side. His mouth hovers over my skin, his breath coming in light puffs, and then the wet velvet of his tongue strokes me where his breath has just been. He trails my spine with his lips, his teeth, his tongue making small circles against each vertebra, and I clench my fists, aching to touch him, but I manage control and keep them by my side. Fiery liquid pools between my legs, making me pulsate with desire. “Eli, please…”

Finally, he touches me. His hands skim my calves, up my outer thighs, over my hips, inches up my ribs.
Not
the place I want to be touched. I’m nearing the breaking point, and at any second am going to use whatever powers I have to throw his ass on the floor.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispers close to my ear, sending another wave of shivers through my taut body. His hands move to my shoulders and push my bra straps down, the soft silk cups catching on my breasts. Slowly, he slides them over the tightened peaks.

His sharp intake of air is a small victory.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

I want it to go on forever.

Eli’s large hands close over my breasts as his mouth claims that portion where my neck meets my shoulder. His thumbs brush the hardened, sensitive tips, and my head drops back to rest against his chest. A moan escapes me.

He moves his leg between mine. “Settle back against me, Riley.”

I’m out of my mind with need right now, and I do exactly what he asks, and the full erection pressing into the small of my back makes me moan again.

His lips scrape my jaw, the rough scruff of his stubbled cheek grazing my skin; then he moves his mouth to my ear. “I want to see how ready you are for me. Can you stand it?”

Between breaths, I shiver and whisper, “Can you?”

A low growl rumbles deep in Eli’s throat. “Be still.”

Keeping one hand possessively cupped over my breast, Eli slides his other hand over the flat of my stomach, over one hip, then slips under the low waist of my silk panties.

The moment he touches me, an uncontrolled growl of desire tears from my throat.

“Christ, Riley,” he says, holding his hand still against my wetness. His whisper turns hoarse.
“Now.”
He dips inside of me with one finger, holding me tight against him, and his lips press and suckle against my throat. I suck in a raw breath and hold it, squeeze my eyes shut, and struggle not to explode against Eli’s hand.

It doesn’t work.

A gradual climax, one pulse at a time, increases with each beat, with each movement of his hand against me, until I turn and press my face against his shoulder as the orgasm claims me. Slowly, it subsides.

Without another word, Eli lifts me and lays me on the quilt before the fire.

Damn it, I didn’t want to lose control. I couldn’t help it. I wanted the moment to go on forever.

The erotic fire quickly rekindles as I watch Eli strip his clothes away.

He doesn’t tease, doesn’t do it slow, doesn’t put on a show. Centuries-old vampire or not, he’s still one
hundred percent male, and he yanks his shirt over his head, toes off his boots and socks, unbuttons his jeans, and kicks them off. He’s totally bare under the worn denim. My heart leaps.

Bathed in the amber glow of the fire, Eli stands tall, thick, muscular and powerful, worthy of his ancient heritage, of what Fate led him to be, and volts of energy shimmer off his body in sizzling waves. His hair hangs loose and disheveled, making him seem wild, untamed, and I easily drum up a vision of him two hundred years ago, in a white linen shirt with laces at the throat, tight breeches, and high black boots. The beauty of the vision sucks the air from my lungs.

Eli eases down beside me, pulls me close.

“Come here,
chère
.”

I inch closer, eyes locked, something more than lust propelling me. Inexplicable. I push it to the far corners of my brain and just accept Eli, the man.

“Look at me.”

I do.

“I can’t offer you normalcy, Riley Poe.” He brushes my cheek with his knuckle. “Things will never be normal for us. But I can offer you whatever soul I have left in me. It’s yours. Forever.”

I watch the firelight flicker in the depths of his blue eyes. “I know,” I answer, and I did know. There was nothing else that could be said. Somehow, we understand
each other, and that’s all that matters. Now, anyway.

With the pad of his thumb, he traces my lips, hooking the corner, then lowering his mouth to mine, urging it open. Our tongues meet, slow, exploring at first, and then he breaks the kiss, angles my head, and moves his mouth over my throat. Sensations ripple through me. The lack of fear that a vampire hovers over my artery doesn’t faze me. Eli’s unique taste settles on my tongue, making me crave more.

Eli gives it. He rolls over me, bracing his weight on his elbows. His eyes sear into mine.

“Hold on to me, Riley. Lock your legs around my waist.”

As I slide my legs around his waist, he eases into my slick wetness with one swift push, burying himself all the way inside. I gasp, moaning as my feminine muscles stretch and accommodate. I almost come again.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he whispers.

When I do, his mouth claims mine, devours me, his tongue tasting every corner. He moves his hips, pulling himself almost all the way out, then thrusting back deep inside. His motions mimic his tongue, both making love, and I hook my ankles around his waist and move with him.

He thrusts faster, once, twice, a third time and I close my eyes as darts of heat flash my skin, and behind my
eyes light erupts. Waves of powerful orgasm break over me, my muscles contract, pulse, and squeeze in an unstoppable rush. A moan rips from my throat on a ragged breath.

Eli’s body jerks as his own climax convulses him, the muscles in his stomach flexing with each thrust, the vein in his neck thick and protruding. His movements finally slowly ease, and he wraps his arms around me tightly. He kisses my mouth in a slow, erotic movement of possession. He kisses my throat, makes my head tilt back, and he gently licks the small hollow where my pulse beats.

With one hand, Eli palms the back of my head, bringing our mouths a whisper apart. He stares, the firelight licking his skin, and he kisses me deeply, then brushes whispered words against my ear from a language I don’t know, words I had no understanding of. I didn’t dare ask their meaning.

Suddenly, they register.

I will love you forever.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around Eli and press my body as close to his as I can. I feel every inch of him against me, and there’s not an ounce of flesh not claimed by him. Grasping his jaw with my fingers, I pull his head close, my lips to his ear.

“I’ll love you forever, too,” I whisper back.

When Eli pulls away and looks at me, surprise first
fills his cerulean blue eyes. It’s quickly followed by more love than I’d ever hoped to find. One corner of his mouth lifts in the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen.

Then, he kisses me. I feel every ounce of love in that kiss.

If nothing else stays with me for all of my days, I hope this moment in time does. This kiss. The look in Eli’s eyes. God almighty, I pray it does.

For the first time in…Jesus, I can’t even remember, I fall asleep in Eli’s arms.

There is blood. A lot of it. There are screams filled with terror. I feel him, I know who it is without even looking, or without seeing his face. And I know it’s me he wants. Somehow, he knows what’s inside of me now. Not just his DNA, or his brother’s, but…more. His desire for me feels sexual, but I know it’s way more than that. He not only wants my sex, he wants my soul. Wants my blood. Wants my life.

I remain…wherever this place is, and I can feel the pain and terror of those around me. Valerian is torturing them to torture me. He won’t stop. He’ll never stop.

Unless I stop him.

“Are you awake,
chère
?”

My eyes flutter open. I feel the adrenaline pushing through my veins and the deathly slow beat of my heart.