Hunger (15 page)

Tor growled, tore her panties from her and was in her in one deep, powerful thrust. Eve cried out at the sudden invasion. The sting of his cock plunging fast into her body, stretching it to accommodate him, made white spots wink across her vision. She clung to his shoulders, digging her claws in to anchor herself and cried out again as he withdrew and thrust back in, so deep she could feel all of him.

He stilled, only his mouth moving against hers, and she wriggled on him, began rocking on his length. Intense ecstasy flowed through her with each undulation of her hips, each slow withdraw and downward plunge. Tor groaned and kissed her harder, one hand claiming her hip in a tight grip and the other spreading across her back between her shoulder blades.

She leaned back as he kissed down her throat to her chest, and cried out as he wrapped his lips around her left nipple and tugged it into his mouth, sending fire skittering across her skin and shooting down to the point where their bodies joined. She kept rocking her hips into him, riding his hard length with slow deliberate thrusts that she could just about handle. Any faster and she feared she would pass out in his arms, and she didn’t want to lose consciousness until she had found release and felt Tor find his.

Tor sucked at her breasts and moved beneath her, gentle thrusts of his hips that rubbed her with his cock in a delicious way, one that had her forgetting she was meant to move too. He moaned and shoved her hip down, forcing her onto him, thrusting him deeper into her heat. She groaned and clung to him, rising off him and driving down again, loving the way he moaned against her breast whenever their bodies met and he was seated to the hilt in her.

She lost herself in him, in the connection between them that had never felt so strong and intense, enveloping her and leaving her feeling unsure of where he ended and she began. She had never felt this connected to anyone before. None of her past lovers had made her feel as Tor did.

He made her feel alive.

He leaned back, drawing her with him, and seized her hips again, controlling her movements and quickening the pace of their lovemaking. Intense heat rolled through her, the pleasure mind-blowing, maddening her as she sought release with him, desperately reaching for it even though she didn’t want this to end.

She had thought biting him was incredible and intoxicating. Making love with him triggered every sense that she had to a painful degree. Taste. Touch. Smell. Sight. Hearing. Every part of her came alive under his touch and his kiss.

She found his mouth again, tangling her tongue with his, drugged by his taste. Masculine. Spicy. Earthy.

All Tor.

All too much for her to handle.

She grasped his hands on her hips as darkness encroached at the corners of her mind, stopping him from thrusting, needing a moment to catch her breath.

“Eve?” Tor drew back and looked at her, his gaze intense and focused, concerned. She opened her eyes and looked into his, and something beautiful dawned in their crimson depths. A smile curved his kiss-swollen lips, devastating and alluring, drawing her back to him. “I know what you’re feeling… or at least a shadow of it. It’s been so long for me that it’s a little overwhelming.”

That stole the breath from her lungs and made her heart lurch into her throat.

She had figured him for a man with appetites, both violent and carnal ones, but he was telling her that he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. On top of what he had said to her before about never feeling as he did around her, it left her speechless.

“Open yourself to it, Eve,” he whispered thickly, keeping her with him, drawing all of her focus back to him again and what they were doing, how they were intimately connected still, both of them wound tight with need. “Don’t fight it. Let it wash over you and take it all in. It’s what I’m doing.”

Eve nodded and released his hands, clutching his shoulders again. She began rocking on him, trying to let herself go at the same time, to release the hold she had on herself and her fear and trust that everything was going to be alright.

Tor slid lower in the chair, the position putting him deeper inside her with each thrust, and she moaned as she kissed him and pleasure flowed over her, ebbed through her, consumed all of her. She rode his cock, tearing moans from him that ripped ones from her, kissing him deeply as she tangled her fingers in his blond hair. She let it all flow into her, opened herself to it, and it was wild. Hot. Intense. Passionate.

And she felt that he was with her the whole time as they writhed against each other, desperately reaching for the same goal, for release that promised to be earth-shattering.

She screwed her eyes shut as the pressure built, the pace of Tor’s thrusts increasing, as if he had sensed she was close and was right there with her, experiencing the same overload of pleasure propelling him towards climax.

She rocked on him, wilder now, lost to sensation and a slave to it, no longer in control of herself.

Tor grasped her hips and thrust deeper, harder, claiming all of her.

Eve shattered into a thousand pieces and then fragmented into a thousand more. She cried into Tor’s mouth as incredible heat detonated within her, sending every inch of her trembling and pulsing, clutching at Tor as he continued to thrust, taking her higher. Out of her mind. She moaned and bit down on his lower lip, holding it in her teeth as she quivered and tingled, throbbed and melted, her breath stuck in her throat.

Tor grunted and shoved her down on his shaft, jerking up at the same time. He throbbed inside her, each pulse shooting cool seed into her. She trembled in response, slowly collapsing into him, all the strength leaving her, until she was boneless on his lap with her head resting on his shoulder.

He lay there beneath her for what seemed like hours, cradling her against him, running one hand up and down her spine.

Eve’s eyes slipped closed and she brushed a kiss across his chest.

He moved, his soft length slipping free of her body, and somehow managed to stand with her. He set her down on her feet, stripped off, and pulled all the sheets off the bed. He threw a blanket over the mattress and then picked her up and set her down on it. He joined her, pulling some of the blanket over her and tucking her against his side.

“Sleep.” His arms settled around her, pinning her close to him, and she hooked her right leg over both of his, grimacing as her wound ached.

“I’m not tired.” She managed to get the words out before her eyes closed again and she settled more heavily against him, unable to convince her body to move or her mind to stay alert.

It wasn’t the sex or the blood, or even the waning night making sleep overcome her.

It was the feel of his arms around her.

They made her realise how tired she was and how vulnerable she had felt since her death, constantly on the edge and looking over her shoulder.

Tor’s arms around her, his strong arms holding her tucked close to him and sheltering her, and his steady gaze on her, gave her leave to lower her guards and she had done just that without realising it. Fatigue had come crashing in and she didn’t have the strength to fight it.

She didn’t need to.

Tor would keep her safe.

He would watch over her.

He would never let anything happen to her.

For the first time in her life, she had found a place where she didn’t have to be strong.

In the arms of a vampire.

E
ve woke to Tor growling. Adrenaline rushed through her in response and she reached out with her senses, searching the hotel room for danger. Nothing. She pushed herself up and looked down at Tor.

He was asleep.

He shifted restlessly on the bed and pulled her closer, settling once her body came back into contact with his. What was he dreaming in there?

She studied him as he held her moulded against his strong, naked body. He wasn’t breathing. He hadn’t breathed most of the time they had been together. Her training had told her that only old vampires forgot the instinct to breathe, so how old was Tor? He looked in his late thirties to her, but she knew he was far older than he appeared. He was strong, and strength often came with age in vampires.

Eve ghosted her fingers over his cheek. He looked more handsome in sleep, the usually hard planes of his face softened by it, making him more angel than devil again. His lips were still a shade darker than normal, stained by her blood.

She leaned forwards and brushed a kiss across them.

He moaned and held her closer. “You should be sleeping.”

She didn’t want to sleep. She was wide awake now and wanted a shower, and to prepare things for their move tonight.

As soon as night fell, Tor would want to leave and take her to the Vehemens mansion outside of the city. She didn’t want to go to a place filled with vampires. She didn’t think she could cope with it. She was comfortable with only Tor for company, a new partner in crime she felt certain would never betray her because she knew deep in her heart that he would never do anything to hurt her.

Quite the opposite. He wanted to keep her safe.

She had never wanted to let a man do that, but she could accept it from Tor. She could let him shield her in his arms and weather every storm for her. She could do it because with him it wouldn’t irritate her. It would make her feel special.

She pushed that thought away and focused on him instead. He was asleep again, his face slack with it, settled and peaceful. A contrast to the hardened male that accompanied her on scouting missions and talked to her of torture and betrayal, and his life as a vampire.

The lover, not the fighter.

Eve slipped from his arms and from the bed, careful not to put too much weight on her injured leg straight away. She had a short walk around the room, slowly increasing how much pressure she put on it, and frowned when she realised that it was able to take it all, as if it had never been injured.

She headed to the bathroom, removed the bandage from around her thigh, and frowned as she traced her fingers along the length of the gash. Tor had sewn it closed. The stitching was neat and precise, and it seemed so typical of him that it made her smile. The wound was close to healed, barely a thin red line visible now.

Eve took a long, hot shower, letting the water chase the chill from her bones and ease her tired, and pleasantly sore, muscles. A slow smile spread across her face and she had to think about her mission and visiting the Vehemens mansion to tamp down the desire that rose within her in response to her thinking about making love with Tor.

She switched off the shower, stepped out of the cubicle, and rubbed a pale towel across her hair.

“Eve,” Tor shouted, panic lacing his deep voice.

She dropped the towel and rushed back into the bedroom, expecting to find him up and fighting for his life against an intruder.

He thrashed around on the bed, his long limbs tangled in the soft white covers. Eve wrapped a towel around herself and moved as quickly as she could to the bed. Tor growled and slapped at the covers, kicking out at them, tossing parts aside and tangling himself in others.

“Eve.” Her name was a tortured moan on his lips and she mounted the bed and clutched his shoulders.

“Tor… wake up.” She gently shook him, afraid to use more of her strength in case he lashed out at her. He would never forgive himself if he hurt her. “Wake up, Tor.”

He didn’t. He kept thrashing, writhing beneath her, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Don’t die,” he said in a broken whisper and she stopped trying to wake him and stared blankly at him, her heart flipping in her chest and throat tightening. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

Was he reliving tending to her leg wound?

She shook him again, not wanting him to relive something that must have affected him deeply judging by his nightmare.

“Run and don’t look back. Swear to me,” he husked in a voice filled with raw emotion that tore at her. What the hell was he dreaming? It wasn’t her fight against Adam, that was for sure. “Promise me. Just run.”

Eve jostled him harder and his eyes snapped open, shot to her and focused.

Shock filled them and then darkness so deep and menacing it frightened her. It dissipated before she could look away and he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest at an awkward angle, his breathing fast and hard.

“Was it a bad dream?” she said, unable to get her voice above a whisper as questions bounced around her mind.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” He held her tighter, making it hard for her to breathe. “It will never happen.”

That blasted away all questions and left her with only one.

Did Tor possess a precognitive ability?

She had read in the Section Seven database that some vampires of the pure bloodlines possessed special abilities. What if Tor could see the future and had just witnessed hers? A shiver went through her at the thought that Tor might have been seeing her future death.

All of a sudden, she didn’t want to die.

She wanted to live.

T
or finished putting his mobile phone number into the new phone he had purchased for Eve. He had used tracking down a phone for her and setting it up as a way of distracting himself from the vision he had seen, a nightmare he would never allow to happen.

Her blood had given him the necessary connection his ability needed to function. He shouldn’t have taken so much. He normally avoided feeding deeply from vampires because of the side effects for him. While most vampires received only memories from another vampire’s blood if that vampire didn’t guard them, he received a glimpse of their future.

It would haunt him on repeat until their blood had faded from his system.

And it was never a positive glimpse. It was always something dark and horrific. Normally, he didn’t care about his inability to tell the timeframe or location of the event, because he didn’t give a damn about the blood host who had given him the glimpse.

This time he cared more than he wanted to admit.

Eve walked beside him, huddled into one of his black sweatshirts beneath her dark jacket. The garment swamped her slender frame but he liked the sight of it on her, the knowledge that she wore something of his. Something that smelled like him. It was a twisted desire that she would stamp out if she knew about it, but he wanted her to smell like him.