Stealing Time (10 page)

“Evie, I cannot bear that you are hurting.” James’s voice was rough as he turned me to face him. “My principles are dust compared to that, compared to you.”

I started to speak, but he shook his head.

“My turn now,” he said with a tender smile. “If it will ease you, I will do as you ask.”

It took a second to translate his formality and my heart pounded like it meant to escape my chest.

“It would.” I’d tried to sound confident, but the words came out thready.

“But know that this is not casual for me. Lying with you.” He met my eyes, letting me see the hope and fear he felt, and I marveled that someone as powerful as James could feel vulnerable too. That he had his own wounds.

Seeing that he was waiting for me to respond, I gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not casual for me either.”

James let out a breath of air, like he’d been holding it, waiting for my answer. Trailing his palms down my arms to my hands, he tugged the wadded-up clothes loose and dropped them to the floor. Stepping closer, he ran a fingertip across my cheek, setting my skin tingling. “Regardless of how callously Kore discussed it, claiming is a very intimate thing among our kind, Evie. It is much more than just lying together. Claiming you requires that I use power so you carry my mark, as well as my scent. For this to work, you must accept it, Evie. I will not force you. You must submit to me.”

At the word “submit,” my chin came up. He saw this and gave me a dubious look.

Shaking off the attitude, I swallowed hard at his intensity and the power I sensed vibrating just under his control. “The mark. Is it like a brand?”

“Your skin remains unblemished. The claiming changes your energy signature and your chemistry to match mine. It alerts all of our kind that you are mine alone.”

“And…submitting?” It was hard to even say the word.

Something in James’s expression told me he knew it. “Only to accept me during the claiming, Evie.” He bent his head closer and the smallest space existed now between our bodies. “Do you still wish for me to do this?”

Incapable of speech, I nodded.

“Relax your thoughts and accept my touch.” His voice a dark caress that made me shiver. He stroked his cheek along mine, inhaling lightly. A sound vibrated deep in his chest, as if he were reveling in the sweetest scent. His hand cupped my face and he brushed his lips, feather-light, across mine. “Let me in, Evie.”

His other hand found my lower back and pressed me to him as he kissed me again. My bare breasts met his chest, and the heat and exquisite feeling of his warm, sleek flesh against mine set my pulse rocketing. My hands rose to clasp behind his neck and tangle in his still-damp hair. James made a noise in his throat as he deepened the kiss and I got my first taste of him—all dark and spicy, like the rich red wine I used to love.

His power brushed against my skin, soft as the gentlest caress, and I inhaled at the sensuous feeling—it was as if he were touching every part of me all at once. As his will overlaid mine, my instincts stirred in alarm, but I forced them silent and welcomed the feeling of
James.

“Yes, Evie, you’re doing it,” he murmured.

The hand at my cheek moved lower and found my breast, cupping the weight of it as I arched into his palm. His fingers brushed the sensitive peak and I gasped in his mouth, eliciting a shuddering sigh from him. My hands fisted in his hair and I pulled him closer, welcoming his tongue as he plundered my mouth again and again. The hand at my back pulled our lower bodies together and the evidence of his passion through the thin towel made me ache to be closer still.

James broke our kiss and I opened my eyes to stare up at him, dazed from desire. He bent and easily lifted me, carrying me the few steps to the bed and laying me out gently. I watched through half-lowered lids as his gaze traveled over my body like he was drinking me in, his face flushed, his eyes wild. Then my breath caught as he dropped his towel. He was magnificent—lean muscle and deadly grace, incredible power contained within hot, silken skin.

My hand rose to him, yearning, and he joined me on the bed, stretching out so our bodies touched all down our lengths. He bent his head and his mouth claimed mine, hard and demanding. My eyes closed again and I cupped a hand at the nape of his neck, drawing him down as my lips parted beneath his. There was the sound of fabric tearing and I knew my panties were gone.

James ran his hand down my flank and I trembled under his caress, breath coming faster, senses aflame with hunger for him. When his hand drifted across my stomach, everything in me went rigid as heat blossomed in anticipation of his touch. A velvet groan escaped him as his nostrils flared, catching the scent of my need. His fingers found me, dancing across my most intimate place, drawing breathless moans from me and swallowing them as he deepened his kisses.

My hips moved on their own, following his pace as he led me through this ancient, erotic dance. Slowly, languorously, he stroked me as I writhed, the little cries I made brought forth by his sensuous touch. And then he slipped a finger inside and my body rose to meet him. My head tilted back on the pillows and I clutched convulsively at his shoulders.

“James,” I whispered.

I couldn’t be still for want of him, my hips moving helplessly in time with his carnal caress. My hands ached to touch, to explore, and I slid them down his chest, thrilling as he quivered under my fingertips, ran them across his flat belly to find the patch of dark hair that led lower still. The scent of his heightened arousal filled my head.

He broke our kiss and his hand caught mine before it could go further. Raggedly, he said, “I must maintain my control, Evie, this first time. If you touch me…” James swallowed hard.

He lifted his head to meet my gaze and his eyes were black with desire, the pupils indistinguishable. His lips were swollen from our kisses, and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. When I nodded, realizing he was waiting for me to respond, he gave me a tender smile and lowered his head to kiss me again. His hand went back to its decadent dance and I called his name.

James’s nostrils flared again and he made a strangled sound. He ran his lips along my jaw, down to my throat, and hovered over the spot where my pulse pounded frantically. “First, you must accept me, Evie,” he whispered, his breath an erotic tickle on my skin. “Accept my will.”

His power flared and entered my awareness as his hot mouth closed on my neck, suckling the flesh over my pulse. At the feel of his fangs lightly grazing my skin, my survival instincts sprang to life.

Senses screamed at the danger of a dominant male’s fangs so close, his more powerful will pressing into my own. Alarm shot through my body, locking down my thoughts and demanding I fight my way free.

I stiffened in James’s arms as desire and fear wrestled for control. He held me close, his weight and greater strength pinning me beneath him. The knowledge that I couldn’t free myself skittered to join the fear and a panicky sound tore loose.

He deliberately dragged his fangs across my flesh and caressed my belly with his arousal, and my body convulsed on its own, desperate to throw him off. That this violent effort didn’t even budge him tore another cry from me.

His words were mesmerizing, his tone soothing and erotic all at once. “This is what claiming is about. That I have the power to hold you. To put my teeth to your throat. To make your body need mine. Accept me, Evie. Submit.”

I convulsed again as I fought his grip, my breath coming in panting gasps as my own fangs extended. A snarl ripped from me as my instincts fought past the desire James had awakened, fought past my own intellect and the growing feelings I had for him.

“Evie,” he breathed, tightening his arms as his will filled my awareness. I sensed that he could invade my control, that he had the power to easily override any resistance I might offer, and my instincts shrieked defiance like a creature cornered by a much larger predator.

“You must choose.” His voice was a distant whisper now, reaching the last of my intellect before it could be utterly subsumed by instinct.

Choose.

I lunged at the word, held it close to my heart, forced its meaning deep into my stuttering mind. And I found the will to fight past the rage and fear, to fill my thoughts with
James
—his courtliness and humanity, his gentleness, the feel of his hands and mouth on my skin. And, slowly, the instincts subsided, giving me space to think again, the ability to find myself once more.

Gasping like a landed fish, I opened my eyes, spots dancing across my vision as if a strobe had gone off too close. James’s grip on me eased, but his face stayed buried against my throat. Swallowing hard, I nodded, not trusting my voice…not sure what words could be spoken after all of that.

He breathed deeply—a sensual, preparatory sound—and his hips surged forward, the thick head of him pressing into me and slowly gaining entry. My head tilted into the pillows as a cry wrenched from my throat, this time one of pure passion. The dual sensations of James entering my body and my senses whited out my thoughts until only the exquisite awareness of the twin possessions remained.

It was too much all at once, the intensity screaming along over-sensitized nerves and what was left of my mind. My body expanding to welcome the heat of him, clamping reflexively on his pulsing arousal, James’s groan close by my ear, his breath hot on my neck. Lifting to accept him deep within me, rising to meet each thrust, the feel of his hands on my shoulders holding me in place against his driving hips. My awareness opening to him, absorbing his power, overridden by his will even as some part of what made me
Evie
modified itself to match the pattern and taste of those things that made him
James
. It was as if we shared the same skin and a single heart, beating for us both.

Breathless sounds escaped his throat, wordless sighs and expressions of his need, and his pulse went from quick to frantic under my hands. He muttered something in French, the fervent, impassioned tone igniting me further, filling me with a sense of feminine triumph.

James’s hand found my hip as he drove deep to fill every inch of me and then he held himself still. “Evie, look at me,” he whispered. “
See me.
”

Amid the maelstrom of need and hunger, the swirling chaos of my own awareness changing its patterns even as my body changed its shape to accept him, I forced my eyes open and met his fevered gaze.

“I need to know this is
us,
Evie. Not just the instincts, not just the claiming. This is
you and me.
”

Utterly incapable of speech, I nodded, resisting the urge to let my eyes roll back in my head as he began again to move—long, slow strokes as he almost withdrew, then drove himself to the hilt, filling me. My hands found their way down his back, reveling in the feel of his taut muscles, the way his butt clenched with each thrust. Needing him deeper still, wanting all of him, I tightened my hands on his rear, lifted my hips to give him greater access.

“So beautiful,” he whispered and his rocking sped up. A cry escaped me as I met his pace.

He brushed my neck with his fangs. “Say my name, Evie.”

“James,” I whispered on a breath. “James.”

With a groan, he kissed me, driving his tongue into my mouth as I welcomed his hunger, dimly realizing that he’d retracted his canines. His hand slipped between our straining bodies to touch me and I writhed beneath him. My eyes squeezed shut and flames exploded throughout my body.

“Evie,” he cried, beginning to spasm as he drove himself harder into me, his movements speeding up as his need destroyed the last of his control.

I forced my eyes open and held his gaze as long as I was able. Until the escalating force of my own climax took me and we shuddered against each other, over and over.

All that long, glorious night and early morning, James and I lingered in each other’s arms, exploring and touching and tasting. It wasn’t exhausting physically, as it would have been if we were mortal. But the emotional heights, the mind-blowing ecstasy, the intensity of sharing one another’s bodies, compounded with James’s claiming, were unlike anything I could have comprehended. It was with some relief that I gave in to the stasis when my eyes at last grew heavy and the resting time took me.

The clock said it was 11:30 a.m. when I sat up in bed, instantly awake—a good thing, since mass quantities of coffee were no longer an option—and saw that I was alone in James’s spacious bedroom. Thinking that this was the first occasion I’d been on my own since Dr. Katzen’s appointment, I decided to delay a bit before going in search of James. Heading to my bathroom to take a shower, I figured the extra time would give me a chance to wrap my head around how we’d spent last night. I needed it too, since I had no idea how things normally progressed from this point—when I was human, my obsessive drive for the next story left me pretty inexperienced where mornings-after were concerned.

I lingered under the hot water, took my time combing out my wet hair and deciding what clothes to put on…all the while resolutely ignoring the little voice that accused me of cowardice for putting off finding James.

My hair was almost dry, and I’d settled on my uniform of jeans and a dark red henley sweater, when I had to admit I was as presentable as I was going to get. Squaring my shoulders, I experimented and pictured James in my head, wondering where he was. An urge to go to his library, located two floors down, had me heading for the stairs on the other side of the great room.

I found him reading on the sofa. He was wearing a black V-neck pullover and jeans, and his thick, chestnut hair was a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it after showering. When his gaze rose to meet mine where I stood frozen in the doorway—nervous about whether I was intruding, clueless about what to say—the way he looked at me erased my awkwardness and, suddenly, everything was all right. Better than that. It was downright perfect.

He whispered, “You are so beautiful.”

A blush heated my cheeks at his frank admiration and I crossed to him as he stood, taking his offered hand and letting him tug me down with him to sit close together. “Mmm, gardenias,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head.

My cheeks flushed again and my heart increased its speed. Sounding a little breathless, even to my own ears, I said, “No, the shampoo was lilac-scented.”

“Yes, but
you
smell like gardenias.”

I sensed his seeking and turned my face toward him, breath catching in my throat as his lips met mine. His hand found my jaw and he deepened the kiss, while my fingers twined in his shirt, pulling him closer. A spiciness on his breath awakened a different kind of hunger and I pulled back, startled by my own intense reaction.

“You are hungry,” he said, smiling.

Before I could answer, an enticing scent set my instincts tingling and I noticed the decanter on the table next to the sofa. One of the two glasses had a red residue and my eyes locked onto it as my throat caved in on itself.

“I would have waited for you, but the fight last night and our claiming…” He trailed off as my cheeks went scarlet at the erotic memories. “I very much enjoy seeing you blush.”

Knowing I was getting even redder, I made a face at him. Torn between hunger and distaste, I shoved my trembling hands under my arms and made myself look anywhere but at the decanter’s gorgeous ruby contents.

I sensed James’s amusement and watched as he leaned forward to pour a glass, his gaze on me challenging. He lifted the heavy tumbler to his lips, drinking deeply before setting it back on the tray. He took my face in his hands and kissed me. My lips parted under his in surprise, the taste of him and what he’d just drunk doing erratic things to my pulse and instincts.

“Will you drink?” he purred. Deliberately, he brushed his tongue across my lower lip, smiling as I trembled at the exquisite spiciness from what he’d drunk and the feel of his decadent caress. James lifted the glass and had another sip, then turned to claim my mouth again, and the taste was fresh and intoxicating.

Pulling back, I couldn’t quite keep myself from licking my lips, noticing his eyes flare as he watched the movement. “You’re making me crazy,” I accused him, breathless. This sensuously playful side of him was new and sexy as hell.

“Imagine that,” he said, his eyes dancing as he drank again. “We may be here a while, but I’ll wager I can get a glass into you this way.”

My heart gave a thud at the image and more memories of last night flitted through my mind. Feeling bold, I said, “Careful. I give as good as I get.”

“And well do I know it.” A wicked smile lifted the corners of his enticing lips. Another quick sip and he alternated kissing me with words murmured in French, slow and languorous, his voice a deep, erotic rumble. “
Je t’adore. Je veux passer le jour faisant l’amour avec tu,
Evie.
Tu es ma joie de vivre. Ma mie, mon tresor.
”

I had no idea what he was saying, but it fed my hunger for him and left my earlier interest in the decanter’s contents in the dust. I cupped my hand behind his head, pulling him down for another kiss. We passed a glorious few moments, then he pulled back a little and snugged me against his side.

“There is a matter I would speak with you about, Evie.” His voice was serious and it took a second for me to get my passion-fogged mind working. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly in control, although his eyes had gone a deep emerald.

“Umm…” Clearing my throat, I brushed my hair back from my face. “Okayyy…” That he’d reverted to his formal origins made me cautious.

“It is uncommon for our kind to follow traditional paths, but this may yet be rectified and still remain within the bounds of propriety,” he began. I blinked and tried to untangle his meaning. “In situations such as ours, a gentleman would naturally seek to obtain the approval of his intended’s guardian. But such things are no longer in favor in today’s society…”

“James?” I interrupted. “Twenty-first-century translation, please?”

He ran a fingertip along my cheek. “I am speaking of marriage.”

I looked at him, and he looked at me as my brain struggled to catch up. “Um. What?”

“Given the intimate nature of our relationship, it’s only proper that…”

“Hold on a second,” I stammered. “You want to get married? Because we slept together? Er…were intimate?”

A slight frown crossed his face. “You sound surprised.”

“You could say that, yeah. James, these days, people don’t have to get married because they…” I trailed off at his expression—part hurt, part outrage. “Surely you know this. People have sex all the time and don’t run off to the church after.”

He bent his face close to mine. “That was not
sex,
Evelyn Reed. We made love. Many times. And, with your permission, I hope to do so countless times more for the rest of eternity.” My heart kicked into high gear and he smiled softly to hear it.

Rallying, I tried reason. “In the last hundred-however-many years, you can’t have been celibate.” His gaze remained steady, but his cheeks flushed a little and I took this for my answer. “And you can’t have considered marriage with the numerous females…”

“They were not numerous.” Judging by his tone, his outrage was back.

“Okay, for the
occasional
females you were with.”

James regarded me for a moment and his eyes flashed. “It is my sincere hope that you are not comparing the very
few,
very
brief
encounters, which were nothing more than casual assignations…that you could possibly imagine there was any similarity between…”

He seemed to be working up to a proper Victorian hissy, so I laid a placating hand on his arm. “No, of course not. Anymore than I’d compare my own experiences—very few, very brief—to last night.” His eyes flashed again, but he withheld comment and I stifled a grin at his possessiveness. “But, seriously, we don’t know each other well enough to talk about
marriage.
”

He reared back. “We don’t…Evie, we have shared a home since your change over a month ago. We have spent every moment of that time in one another’s company. We have lain together and there is not one inch of your or my skin that has gone untouched.” He grinned when my cheeks threatened to spontaneously combust as I remembered my own enthusiastic wantonness. “Our bodies even share the same energy patterns now. From both a human
and
a vampire perspective, we know one another intimately.”

Flustered, I sat back on the sofa, wrapping my arms around myself. “But…there are so many things we don’t know.”

“Name one.”

“Where did I go to college?”

If he were less of a gentleman, I’d say he smirked. “Georgetown.”

“How did you know that? I never told you…”

“I read your bio online, back when we first crossed paths in Chicago.”

I sucked in a sharp, angry breath. “So you think you know me because of a friggin’
press release?
”

Unperturbed, he said, “Ask me something else then.”

“Okay. Fine. What was the name of my first pet? And I’ll give you bonus points if you can tell me whether it was a dog or a cat.” I sat back, triumphant.

He glowered. “You refuse to marry me because I don’t know something so ridiculous?”

“I loved Heidi! She was an awesome dog.”

It was clear he was working on his patience. “I am sure you did. But knowledge of an animal that long ago turned to dust has no bearing on our relationship!”

“Not directly, no. But it’s just one example of all the things you don’t know about me. And that I don’t know about you!”

“Ask me anything, Evie. We can sit here as long as you like and tell each other the infinite details of our lives.” He sat back, his eyes flaring. “Will you agree to marry me then?”

I threw up my hands. “You’re kinda missing the point here. Getting to know each other isn’t about a list or statistics.”

Suddenly, I was flat on the sofa with James’s body stretched along my length. His eyes were almost black. “No points have been missed,
ma mie.
But what you speak of are mere details that may be shared over a lifetime. We do know each other. In all the ways that matter.”

I was speechless as he dipped his head to kiss me. My skin tingled to have him so close, my pulse sped up, and awareness of him sped through my senses.

“I know that you are proud and strong and intelligent. You’ve a fine wit, and your heart is generous and tender, no matter what you wish others to think,” he said, punctuating his words by kissing and nipping gently along my jaw and down my throat. “I know the sounds you make when I touch you, just so, and your cries when you are lost to our passion. And I know that, when I am with you, everything is right, everything makes sense.”

“James,” I whispered, overcome by his words.

He lipped my breast through my sweater, making me gasp. “The taste and feel and scent of you fill my mind. Your voice and touch and presence fill my soul. Is this not enough, Evie?”

My hands clutched his shoulders and my knee lifted to frame his hip. He ran his hand along my thigh, pressing it tighter to him and kissing me deeply.

“You don’t fight fair,” I sighed when he let me speak.

“Of course I do. I am a gentleman. But this is not fighting,
ma mie,
and all is fair in love.”

Any argument I might have raised was completely subsumed by his lips covering mine, the exquisite heat of him pressing along my length and his hands hot on my body.

He pulled back after a moment, smiling tenderly as I objected to this small space with a wordless sound. Brushing the hair back from my face, he said softly, “I understand that we are of different worlds and that you are adjusting to a great deal right now. If it is time you need…”

A shrill ringing saved me from answering—a good thing, since I had no idea what to say.

“Is that a phone?” I asked, astounded. It was completely out of context with my life with James and as effective as cold water. When he continued to nibble his way down my neck, I asked, “Shouldn’t you answer it?”

Without lifting his head, he said distinctly, “No.”

“But what if it’s important? What if…” I gasped as his mouth moved lower and my eyes kinda rolled back in my head a little. The damn phone kept ringing, though, and I’d always had the compulsion that the annoying things should be answered. My voice came out faint and breathy. “Really…shouldn’t you…?”

He sat up and gave me a mock-severe look, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Only because you find it distracting.” Reaching over to the side table, he opened the drawer and took out a handset. When he looked at the caller ID, he seemed to debate whether or not to answer it after all.

“You have a phone.” The concept was lodged in my head.

James made a rude noise. “
We
have several.” He sighed and pushed the on button. “Hello, Lilith.” He mouthed to me “art agent.”

I’d been raised to not eavesdrop but it’s pretty much impossible with a vampire’s acute hearing. Even with the handset to his ear, I could easily hear the caller’s voice, crisp and business-like. And female. It took some effort to suppress a growl and I sighed at my rising jealousy.

“James, how have you been? Painting, I hope.”

He ignored her comment. “I am not appearing at the exhibit.”

“Now what makes you think that’s the reason I’m calling?”

“Because it’s always the reason you call, Lilith. And my answer is always the same.”

“You do know that it’s possible to take this ‘reclusive artist’ thing too far, right? If you would put in an appearance, even once, do you have any idea what it would do for sales?”

“The answer remains the same. If the Neuwirth insists on my being there, I’ll cancel the exhibit.”

I imagined Lilith counting to ten and, perversely, it pleased me that she was irritated.