He closed her wound with his tongue and used her hair to force her to face him.
Her eyes half-closed, somnolent, sated, he shook her head with his fist in her hair, trying to be gentle and fearing he’d failed when her eyes snapped open.
“You’re mine,” he growled, surging into her.
“Yes,” she panted without delay.
“Say it,” he demanded.
She acquiesced, again immediately, “I’m yours.”
“Always.”
As he thrust into her, faster, harder, the pressure building, her body jolting under him, he felt her limbs tense and watched as her face paled.
She didn’t speak.
“Say it, Leah. Always,” he ground out.
“Lucien…”
He thrust into her, deeper, harder and she whimpered in pleasure.
“Say it!” he commanded.
Her eyes locked with his.
“I’m yours, Lucien,” she whispered, “always.”
It was at that moment he came, long and hard, an orgasm unparalleled in eight hundred years. It was even better than the one she’d given him last night during their first joining which he would have thought impossible.
After, he allowed his weight to collapse on her for long moments before he heard her breath turn heavy from taking his burden.
Then he rolled them, careful to keep them joined, so he was on his back, she was straddling him, her torso to his, her face in his neck, breath still coming fast and brushing lightly against his skin.
Moments passed, Lucien matching his heart to the pulsing rhythm of Leah’s as he tried to shut down his mind. To shut out the images burned there from his dream. The traces of satin on his hands. The dread tearing through his soul as he sought to escape the hunt. None of this reconciled with Leah in his arms, her sweet wetness still tight around his cock, her br**sts crushed against his chest, her heartbeat thumping rapidly.
Belatedly, he smelled her fear.
“Leah?”
Her heart skipped and his skipped with it.
Then she whispered, “What was that?”
“Leah –”
She started to lift up but his arms held her captive.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, “we’ll disconnect.”
She stilled.
Then she asked, “Lucien, what just happened?”
He had no earthly idea. He’d never behaved with such a driven even desperate need before.
This wasn’t true. When he discovered the enemy had tortured and murdered his mate, he’d behaved with a driven, desperate need for fifty years. First fighting then hunting anyone who had anything to do with those who brought about Maggie’s death.
Why he felt that need now, outside a reaction to the nightmare, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that he wasn’t going to tell Leah that he’d shared her dream. This would likely alarm her and until he understood what was happening he intended to shelter her from that.
So in an effort to shield her, Lucien lied.
He moved his h*ps and her muscles contracted deliciously around his still-hard cock.
“I think the answer to that is fairly obvious, pet.”
“I… you… we,” she stammered, “it’s never been like that.”
His fingers sifted in her hair and he murmured, “We’ve only been lovers one night, Leah.”
Her body jerked and he caught her again before her movements could break their joining, something which he was compelled to prolong, again for reasons unknown.
“I don’t mean it’s never been like that between you and me. I mean it’s never been like that for me ever. Maybe for any woman in the history of time.”
Drama, he thought in a moment of amusement before his gut clenched in memory.
I’m not being dramatic! she retorted and his body jolted in shock.
He hadn’t been speaking to her. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t meant for her to hear.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes, you were talking to me. Or, I should say, making fun of me.” She tried to move again but he kept her pinned to him. “Let me up,” she demanded.
His arms grew tight before he responded, “I want to feel you around me for a little while longer.”
She pressed against him. “Let… me… up!”
He let her up but only her torso. He kept her h*ps fixed to his with an arm about her waist.
She glared down at him, her hair falling about her face in waves. Looking at her, finally he felt the clutch of the nightmare release.
This was Leah, his Leah, now fully his, all of her.
Not running, not hiding, not climbing a scaffold, she was alive and, apparently, angry.
This made him smile which made her glare turn to a scowl which, in turn, made his smile deepen.
“You seem in an immensely foul mood for someone who just came twice,” he remarked.
Her eyes widened, her anger accelerated, he knew because her heart did as well taking his with it. She opened her mouth to speak and then suddenly shook her head and looked to the side.
Then she muttered, “Why couldn’t I be some other immortal’s concubine? A werewolf. Or Frankenstein, I could escape Frankenstein. He doesn’t move very fast. A wraith would be good, they’re ethereal. I could probably slip…”
She hadn’t noticed his body freeze but she stopped talking when he whipped her to her back. Disconnecting their joining, he settled on top of her, pinning her to the bed.
She stared up at him in surprise.
“What do you know of other immortals?” he demanded, savage fury tingeing his voice primarily because he was savagely furious.
She reacted to the fury. He smelled it and he heard it and he didn’t give a f**k.
“Wh… what?”
“What do you know of other immortals? Werewolves? Wraiths?”
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Lucien shook her and he didn’t do it gently. “Tell me, damn it!”
“I don’t know!” she gasped. “I mean, Avery…”
She stopped speaking, her eyes dropping to his jaw as it went rigid.
Between clenched teeth, he gritted, “I’m going to f**king kill him.”
“Lucien?” Her tone was uncertain and very frightened.
He gaze bore into hers. “Don’t tell anyone you know of the existence of other immortals, Leah. Not a single soul. Not your family, not Stephanie, not Edwina –”
“Edwina knows,” she admitted softly. “She was there when Avery –”
He closed his eyes and ground out, “Fucking hell.”