He pulled back, his fangs throbbing in protest. This was too important a moment to rush.
“And what of you, little one?”
“Me?”
“Does the thought of becoming my mate please you?”
Her expression was somber as she framed his face in her hands. “Victor, since my parents’ death I have sought a place to call home.”
He frowned at the tender ache he could feel blooming in the center of her heart. It bothered him that he was helpless to protect her from the wounds of the past.
“You have never revealed how your parents were killed,” he said gently.
She winced, but she did not pull away. A victory, considering Juliet had never before trusted him enough to share her secrets.
“My father was considered beautiful, even among the fey,” she said, her voice so low even his acute hearing struggled to catch the words.
His gaze skimmed over her delicate features, lingering on the wide emerald eyes that spoke of her fey blood.
“That I well believe.”
A tremor shook her slender body, her nails unconsciously digging into his back. It was a pain Victor welcomed, wishing he could take away her wounds.
“Unfortunately, he attracted the attention of Morgana le Fey.”
Victor was startled by the mention of the queen. It had been centuries since she had retreated behind her protective mists.
“I did not know she ever left Avalon.”
“It was rumored she was hunting for some mystical weapon that is destined to kill her.” The emerald eyes flashed with a long-brewing hatred. “Instead she found my father.”
“And desired to take him as her lover.”
“Yes.”
Victor had heard rumors of the queen’s insatiable lust for beautiful men, as well as her habit of treating them like pretty baubles that were inevitably destroyed when she grew bored.
Juliet’s father had been destined for death from the moment he had caught the eye of the fickle Morgana le Fey.
“I presume your father declined her royal invitation?”
“He was not foolish enough to publicly reject her, but he attempted to flee with my mother and myself.”
“Morgana was no doubt displeased.”
“She commanded that we be hunted down and slaughtered.”
Victor flinched as his bond with Juliet allowed him to feel the savage intensity of her loss.
“They died to protect you.”
“Yes.” Her gaze lowered, as if she could hide the tears that filled her eyes. “They died and I was alone.”
“Never again,” Victor swore, cupping her chin and lifting her face until he could capture her bruised gaze. “I will be at your side for all eternity.”
Her hands swept up his back, the shadows lingering in her eyes.
“Victor.”
“Yes, my love?”
“I want you to be my mate.”
A fierce surge of savage hunger combined with pure joy in a potent explosion that left Victor reeling from the impact. Suddenly he felt as uncertain and awkward as a newly turned fledgling.
“Now?” he husked.
A smile of pure invitation curved her lips. “Now.”
“Bloody hell.”
Any hope of a slow, dignified mating that would reveal to Juliet just how much she meant to him was lost as he muttered a curse and swept her heavy curtain of hair to one side, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck.
He had an eternity to prove just how much he adored her.
For now, he was desperate to make this woman his.
His lover, his partner, his mate.
With one smooth strike his fangs slid easily through her skin, the taste of her blood hitting his tongue with staggering force.
It was perfect.
She was perfect.
Juliet moaned as he fed from her throat, her hands impatiently lowering to tug at his pants, her body arching in silent need. A need that Victor was quite eager to sate.
Reaching down, he ripped off the pants with one vicious jerk and tugged open her robe until there was nothing left between them. They were skin to skin, her delectable heat wrapping around him.
Allowing himself one precious moment to savor the anticipation, Victor chuckled softly as Juliet wrapped her legs around his hips with obvious impatience.
“Victor…please.”
Victor reluctantly tugged his fangs from her neck, using his tongue to close the bleeding wounds. He could not afford to be greedy. Not when Juliet was determined to rescue the ridiculous gargoyle. Any loss of blood might weaken her.
Besides, there was more than one means of being a part of her.
“Yes, little one,” he husked, settling between her spread legs and entering her with a slow, steady thrust.
Closing his eyes in pure bliss, Victor sent up a prayer of thanks to whatever god had seen fit to bless him with this beautiful, magnificent woman.
Chapter Seven
After a hot bath, Juliet pulled on a clean smock and pants that Victor had borrowed from the son of one of his vast stable of human servants. Like all vampires, he considered any sort of manual labor as being beneath him.
Unfortunately, he also possessed the vampire habit of forbidding any mirrors to be brought into their lair.
Brushing out her tangled curls, she awkwardly pulled her hair into a braid and tied it off with a thin strip of leather. No doubt she could have requested Victor to assist her, but she sensed that such an intimate act would soon have led them to the wide bed just behind her.
It was not that she wasn’t eager to feel Victor’s arms around her. Or to experience the intoxicating pleasure of having him feed from her vein. Good lord, if she had a choice she would keep the delectable vampire in this private lair for the next century.
Unfortunately, the same bonds that allowed her to sense Victor’s unwavering love and commitment for her also revealed his heavy sense of duty.
He was clan chief. And that meant ridding London of the Jinn before the powerful demon could bring harm to Victor’s vampires.
“Juliet.”
The sound of Levet’s voice whispering through her head had Juliet on her feet, her heart slamming against her ribs in startled surprise.
“Levet,” she breathed, ignoring his rude intrusion as a wave of relief rushed through her. “Oh, thank God. I have been so worried.”
“Indeed?” the gargoyle said peevishly. “If you were so excessively worried then why have you not yet rescued me?”
“You might have mentioned that your captor is a full-blooded Jinn,” she snapped, stung by his unfair accusation.
“Ah…well, I…” He coughed in embarrassment. “Does it truly matter?”