But he recalled that he had lost a sense of how much blood he had taken. So he lifted slightly and looked her over carefully. Her face had a rosy hue, not even a hint of paleness, she just looked well and beautifully used. “Do you feel all right? Are you dizzy at all?”
“You look worried.”
“I wasn’t certain how long I took from your vein. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
She smiled. “My heart feels perfect now.” She sighed over and over.
He relaxed then kissed her in return and licked her neck, both sides. He slid his fingers through hers and squeezed both hands at the same time. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs, rubbing up and down, letting her feet glide down his legs then back up.
All the movement felt good to his hyper-sensitive cock, which remained half erect and content in the depth of her well. His heart reached for her, longing for her to stay in his bed forever.
If only she could, but he knew better. For now, however, he would savor her soft fair skin, the light rosemary scent of her, the way she continued to sigh and coo in her contentment.
*** *** ***
The next afternoon, Abigail awoke feeling melded to Gerrod’s bed. Her eyelids were heavy but not in a bad way. She was just so damn satisfied.
But mostly, the weight in her chest was gone.
She lifted her fingers to her neck, wondering if something of Gerrod’s bite remained, but nothing was there. No puncture, swelling, nothing and that made her a little sad. She would have liked a physical reminder of all that had happened last night.
She rolled onto her back and realized that Gerrod wasn’t in bed. She lifted up on her elbows and listened. The bathroom was quiet as well as the sitting room.
She was alone.
Even so, desire fluttered over her stomach and raced in little shivers straight down her thighs. She ached in the most wonderful places from all the activity last night.
He’d been wonderful, attentive, powerful, controlled. And that speed. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she tingled all over again. Just how loud had she screamed after all?
She looked up at the tall vaulted ceiling. Wood rafters. The walls were stone. Maybe no one had heard her.
Fat chance.
She glanced at the bed, all rumpled covers and the sheets really did need to be laundered, which made her smile.
Then she blushed just thinking about it since the entire castle would know by the laundry alone what had gone on in this room for a few hours last night.
Oh, God, a few hours last night. She’d never known such pleasure, such flat-out excitement. Gerrod’s frequency was like having sex spread through every cell of her body, over and over.
But as her mind turned to her other concerns, like her sister in Flagstaff and Elena at the new bakery, she became aware that she ought to be leaving. She had told Gerrod she wouldn’t stay, that she would return to Flagstaff because of the Invictus outbreak in his realm. But she was torn. She had a bakery to open in Hollow Tree. Many realm-folk were depending on her and the jobs the bakery would provide.
She pulled the sheet up to her arm pits, sat up, and hugged her knees. She pondered all that had happened on the evening before, the wedding and reception, kissing Gerrod deep in the forest, the Invictus attack, saving the little troll child, and later of course, tending to Gerrod and he to her, and all that tremendous feeling of vibration and waves of energy.
She had told Gerrod this would be one night only, but she didn’t want to leave this bed, or his castle, or Merhaine. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she loved being here. And it wasn’t just that the sex had been mind-blowing and tender and all-around-wonderful. She just liked being here.
She felt at home.
The more she thought about what to do next, and with so much general reluctance to leave this realm, she decided at the very least she had to go to the bakery and talk with Elena. Perhaps the evening would bring more answers about all that was happening to her.
With the decision made, she had only one problem to contend with: She didn’t have anything to wear except the evening dress she had worn to the wedding last night. But the castle staff was a warm, friendly lot and no doubt would help her with something to wear, at least until she could decide better whether or not to head back to Flagstaff.
Right now, something deep in her bones told her to stay.
*** *** ***
Gerrod sat at the table in his library, his elbows propped up on the table, his hands clasped together, his thumbs at war.
Damn, he was scowling. He could feel the deep pinch between his brows, that permanent look of his as though he was mad at the world. She had said that to him once, some weeks ago, and even last night she had slid her finger along that groove, trying to work the crease out.
Of course, he had no idea why he was thinking about Abigail right now. He shouldn’t be. The sex had been great and her blood…oh, dear Goddess, her blood, like a fine wine with just a hint of rosemary, something he had never tasted in the long expanse of his realm life.
He sucked in a deep breath and sat back in his chair. He needed to make room for a sudden arousal.
Very softly, he whistled the elegant folk song that had played during the ceremony. He glanced at the doorway. How many times had he been whistling this morning? It really wouldn’t do. His staff would take notice and whisper and smile behind his back.
He scowled a little more. As if they weren’t doing that already.
He’d left his bed, not wanting to leave the woman, the human¸ that which he shouldn’t have been with in the first place. He was drawn to her fiercely, yet repelled because of her parentage, her unfortunate DNA.
Human.
Not realm.
Red hair, fair skin that grew flushed and damp, gentle green eyes. He had kissed her cheek and licked the sweet essence of her.
He wanted more.
He leaned forward again, but this time he put his head in his hands.
Must focus.
Realm in trouble. Invictus might attack again, without warning.
He stood up and withdrew his iPhone from the pocket of his leather pants. He marveled. Here was a phone that could reach between the Realms. Ethan had brought the Nine Realms up to electronic speed. As Mastyr Vampire of the Bergisson Realm, he was the youngest of all the mastyrs, being but thirty years in his mastyr state and only ninety from his birth date. So f**king young. And powerful. Ethan had more raw power than any mastyr Gerrod had ever known.
He thumbed the surface and smiled, a little, just off to the side of his mouth. Oh, Goddess, she had kissed that side last night. He wondered about his half smile. Maybe that meant something. So many decades of carrying the weight of so many lives on his shoulders, however much he treasured and valued each one, aye that was a load-and-a-half, so half-damn him for his half-a-damn-smile.