Page 17 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)
Chapter Seventeen
BEYOND TEMPTATION
H aving Callie in his arms was promising. Gabriel hadn’t known she could see him shrouded. When she leaned against the wall and whispered to him, he’d gaped. He hadn’t been horrified by this, no, pride had puffed out his chest.
Then Antoine had squeezed her throat, and fury tore through Gabriel. The man was a rebel, stirring up discontent, and Syl had yet to deal with him. Wanting Callie to realize the severity of the situation, Gabriel had waited. Each second had passed like a decade until he couldn’t stand back anymore.
Endangering her went against every fiber in his being, and if she didn’t hurry up, then he’d have to endure this for as long as a week. The way she nestled into him gave him hope that tonight she would choose instead of making him wait days.
Her suggestion to dine at his home had him shifting on the taxi’s backseat, trying to ease the ever-present arousal he sported. Anywhere with a bed nearby suited him.
She paid the taxi driver and climbed out.
Gabriel paused on the sidewalk outside her apartment, scanning the sky and the shadows forming in the setting sun. He sniffed the air. No vamps lingered and watched. The sight of his motorcycle, a matte black Ducati, taking up prominence in a parking bay, summoned a grin. As soon as Callie suggested dinner at his place, he’d asked Leo to send over transport. The bike was a nice touch, forcing her to wrap her arms around him. With a wave, two helmets formed on the seat.
Leo was a true romantic, and though Gabe had known this, he hadn’t appreciated it as much as he did now. As advised, he’d ordered the flowers in the silence between attacks. She had glowed when she read his cards, proving Leo right again.
She climbed the stairs with more enthusiasm than she had last night, despite the bruises around her neck confirming she’d had a bad day. He hated seeing them, and if he could, he would heal them as he had her head wound.
Releasing a breath on a rush, he shut the apartment door behind them. She’d disappeared into her room, the shower coming on.
“I’ll just freshen up then we can leave.” She returned, hovering in the doorway with peach staining her cheeks. “You saw me naked this morning, didn’t you?” She gasped. “And last night?”
“I won’t lie to you, so yes.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Do you mind waiting?”
“No.” He wished they’d finished the Rite so he could read her thoughts. Was she pissed with him for seeing her naked? What did her nod mean? He sank into her chair, settling in the same spot his backside had occupied for hours last night.
The bathroom door closed, and he gripped the arms, his groin aching, demanding he storm in, and watch her or better, join her. Growling, he pressed the back of his head against the chair. His torturous mind replayed memories of her in his shower, the way the soap clung to her curves, the length of her hair brushing her back as she shampooed it.
Sooner than expected, she saved him from the lust-filled mire, popping her head through her door. His gaze snagged on her pink towel wrapped around her.
“Jeans okay?”
He nodded, not willing to trust his voice. Another few minutes passed with him straining his hearing, guessing what she was doing and wishing he could watch her instead.
“Ready.” Jeans hugged her figure, and an off-the-shoulder cream sweater tested his control. “Do that thing with your eyes.”
Gesturing to her hair, she gave him her back.
He rose, released a shuddering breath, looped his arm around her waist, and tugged her against his chest. He ran his fingers through her damp hair, vibrating air particles to heat and dry each lock. She’d given him the opportunity to touch her. He could’ve done it with one glance, but tonight was for seduction.
His control was thinning, but he buried his face in her hair to inhale her scent and the fragrance of her shampoo. If her stomach hadn’t gurgled, he might have succumbed and kissed her.
He laced his fingers through hers and led her down the stairs to the bike.
She gaped, circling the bike to admire it, before accepting the helmet he held out to her. She tugged it on and raised her chin so he could do the straps. After pulling his on, he threw a leg over the bike, kicking the stand back. He closed his eyes when she gripped his shoulder, swung her leg across, and nestled her hips against his backside.
Then she hugged him, and contentment settled deep within him. This felt perfect, like a photograph capturing true companionship. He engulfed her with warm air so she wouldn’t feel the cold or the wind tearing at her. As he took the corners along a hidden road, she laughed, pulling away from him before pressing her breasts against his back again.
His spirit answered her siren’s call of freedom and exhilaration, reminding him what it felt like to be human, to live in the present.
After parking the bike at the top of the tunnel to his home, he waited for her to dismount before he powered off and kicked out the stand.
She fiddled with the clasp, tugged off her helmet, and blessed him with a bright smile. “I loved that.”
Flipping up the visor, he smiled at her. “I can see that.” He hung their helmets on the bike’s bars, held a hand to the base of her spine, and escorted her to his front door. “Are you hungry? I have more than cereal,” he teased, seeing her thoughtful expression.
“I’ll cook if you keep me company.” She opened his door and stepped across his threshold of her own free will.
He loved the ease with which they communicated. She had no idea how precious she was.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice gruff. He trailed her to the kitchen and chose a chair as she familiarized herself with the contents of his cabinets.
“We’ll need to go shopping tomorrow.”
His breath caught. “We?”
“After today, us is a matter of time, isn’t it?” She faced him but twirled her foot on the toe of her sneaker. “You were right. This isn’t my world. I didn’t understand the dangers, and I thought I knew everything about suckbloods.” She raised her gaze to his. “Gabe, I’m a little scared to take the leap.”
He gasped, rising to reach for her, but she shuffled back.
“I don’t want to lose myself as a person, nor do I want you to be my knight, as if I can’t stand on my own.” She drew in a long breath. “I assume it’s safer for me here in your home until we level the playing field.”
He froze, then his fingers twitched with the urge to hold her.
“I don’t know if I can have sex with you, I’m not skilled, and you make me nervous.” She closed the distance between them. “I’m willing to try though.”
His chest swelled with warm, consuming joy. He hugged her, crushing her against his chest. At first, she kept her body stiff then she softened, wrapping her arms around him.
“Thank you, Callie.” He kissed her temple. “We’ll take this step-by-step.”
She cleared her throat. “So…um, shopping tomorrow?”
He nodded, visualizing browsing food aisles and tossing items into the trolley, like a couple. The idea pleased him. “I can order in. They do deliver.” He offered to be respectful, though he hoped she didn’t accept his suggestion.
“Where’s the fun in that?” She pulled away to pop a pot on to boil. “Do you even own a car?”
“Yes, quite a few.” He returned to his chair, resting his elbows on the table.
“And you hide them where?” She glanced around his home with a frown.
“I’ll give you the tour tomorrow.” He smiled, liking how she showed genuine interest in him, in his life.
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” She flashed a grin, echoing his words from earlier as she spooned salt into the near-boiling water.
“What time do you start work?” He refused to ask the real question everything in his body demanded to know—how long would he have to guard her? There was no leaving her unprotected, not when each second passing intensified this attraction and growing affection between them.
“Eight, but I should take time off, don’t you think?” She put a saucepan on the stovetop and poured in the pasta sauce to warm. “If I plan on ravishing you, that will need time.”
Though she added the pasta to the boiling water with nonchalance, everything in him stood at attention at her words. And he meant everything.
“I would like that.” He clenched his knees with stiff fingers as he fought lunging for her, taking her right here on the counter, burying himself in her, claiming her as his.
He cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his now too-tight jeans. “Please add garlic to your sauce. I haven’t had it in years.”
“Parmesan?” She held up the powdered parmesan he kept in the freezer, shaking it for emphasis.
He had no idea how old it was, though.
“Yes, please.” A rush of endorphins pumped through him, escalating his heartbeat and ramping his level of affection, formulating one circling thought—he adored her.
She made dinner for herself, knowing he’d drink from her later, taking his wants into consideration. Why had no man snatched her up? Not that he liked the idea of it. He just wondered what was wrong with human men in general.
She was his now, and he wasn’t releasing her from her vow, ever.
She served herself, sprinkling parmesan over it, before choosing the chair next to him.
“It smells good,” he said, admiring her features as she forked pasta into her enticing mouth.
“It tastes good. I’ve never tried this brand before. We’ll get more of it tomorrow.”
“Do you need anything from your home?”
She blinked, her body stilling, as if his question startled her. “My uniforms, a few books but that’s about it. I can’t sell, though. The apartment was my dad’s.”
She was willing to trade in everything for him. Moon above, the hold this woman already had on him.
“Tomorrow, we can see if Val can visit.” He offered, needing to give her something… Something that could match what she offered him—herself. It felt as if he fell short, though. As if nothing could compare to her worth.
“That would be wonderful, Gabe.” She held out her arm, resting it across the table. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” He stared at the smooth skin of her wrist.
“I freely give.” She smiled and licked her fork.
His gaze rested on her lips, torn. He could feed now and enjoy the taste of garlic, tomatoes, and parmesan. Or he could wait until she was beneath him. At the memory of her aroused, her chocolate flavor burst across his tongue, and he shifted in his chair to ease the throbbing.
He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her inner wrist, scenting the bounty that awaited him. The staccato of her pulse tapped a rhythm on his lips in her excitement. He lingered on her flushed cheeks. The emerald of her eyes sparkled, and her mouth parted, revealing her small white teeth. She fought to breathe with the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her food forgotten.
With a shudder, he brushed his fangs along her skin, teasing her and himself in the process. He spread his thighs to accommodate his erection, ignoring the constant ache. When he bit into her skin, he ensured she endured the least amount of pain. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and a throaty moan tore from her.
Garlic, parmesan, pasta, tomatoes, and oregano overwhelmed his taste buds. He moaned in pleasure. He refused to close his eyes to savor her flavor, though. The last time he did that, he’d lost cognizance of how much he’d taken. He needed her well for when he buried himself deep in her and tasted her again. Dragging his tongue across the tiny wounds he’d made, his saliva sealed them. Licking his lips, relishing every drop, he stared at her with a need that roared at his sanity.
He kissed the now-healed spots. “Thank you.”
“Had enough?” she asked, as if she would offer him a second helping.
Not releasing her wrist, he shook his head, doubting he’d quench the craving for her that went deeper than hunger, than sexual. “I don’t think I’ll ever have enough.” He stroked his thumb across her soft skin mesmerized by the flush staining her cheeks again.
“Have you?” He gestured to her almost empty bowl.
“Yes, thanks.”
He’d promised to take it one step at a time, but he could kiss her, at least. Jumping forward, scraping his chair backward, he startled a gasp from her. He took full advantage, crashing his mouth across her, plundering without hesitation. A groan rumbled up his throat, and he tightened his hold, needing every inch of her to touch him.
She clung to him, digging her nails into his biceps as she swept her tongue across his.
Fuck, he didn’t need her participation, not if he had to go slow.
He pulled away, throwing himself against the wall, adding distance between them.
“Sorry, I promised you slow.”
Her lust-filled gaze, her parted lips with the tip of her tongue toying with the fullness of her bottom lip made him thump the back of his head on the wall.
“Woman, you’re killing me.” He tugged her toward him to wrap his arms around her, crushing her along the length of him.
With his hard edges contrasting against her softer curves, she clung to him. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a shuddering breath then spun and pinned her to the wall, his mouth crashing across hers. He claimed her soft lips, meeting her tongue with bold, masterful strokes. Splaying out his fingers, he embedded them in her braided hair, holding her captive. He loved the taste of her, how she overwhelmed him, and her evocative groaning as she raised her trembling hands to rest on his chest. How she dug her fingernails into his flesh through the fabric of his T-shirt as she sank into him.
“Callie.” His voice hoarsened, packed with emotions he couldn’t decipher.
“Gabe.” She offered her neck as he kissed along her jaw, shivering when he nibbled on her ear. All he could breathe, taste, smell, and feel was her. His senses saturated his thoughts. His will was no longer his own.
“We need to stop.” He drew away, resting his elbows on either side of her head. “Any more and I’ll take you, Callie.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, the glow traveling down her throat. “Then take me.”
He stilled, disbelieving his ears. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, her fingers now digging into his shoulders. The sharp delicious pain tightened his nipples.
After scooping her into his arms, he carried her to his bedroom. She laughed—a throaty husky sound that made his balls spasm with need. He tossed her on the bed, and as she squealed in mid-flight, he commanded their clothes gone. The sight of her spread nude across his bed, with her flaming hair as her only adornment, made him still.
“You’re beautiful, Callie.” His voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t control his vocals, didn’t even try to.
A few days ago he’d known only his privacy, his need for peace and to be left alone. That was what he thought he wanted. Yet here lay a woman strong enough not to need him, nor to succumb to his pheromones, with the intelligence to know she had to remain with him. For her safety, of course. He was content to let her believe that was it for now when what she invoked was something he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long time…infatuation and affection. Deep within him lay the guilt of manipulating his way into her life. He dismissed it, choosing to believe it was for her safety when she meant more to him than a feeder.
He laid himself alongside her, resting a trembling hand on her taut stomach, but he didn’t care that he revealed his nervousness. Many lovers—both male and female—had laid beneath him, and the euphoric high of lust and companionship had exploded color into his mundane existence.
With Callie, he wanted more than sex. Something about her summoned his protective instincts urged him to claim her. He did so now, capturing her lips, moaning at the need that drove him. Her mouth parted for his intrusion, and his heart hammered in his chest.
Moon above, she was perfect.
He learned every nuance of her delicious mouth. Her dueling tongue told him more about her. She took what she needed, and she needed him. No matter the danger to herself, she might have walked away from him had she not felt the connection between them.
He paused, losing parts of his soul in the glorious green of her heated gaze. Each second stretched in time and embedded itself in his memory. The softness of her skin, the sweetness of her curls, her eyelashes fluttering shadows as she struggled to contain her responses and with those, came the sexiest sounds. One mewl from her spasmed his balls and skittered goosebumps down his spine.
She buried her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails across his scalp, causing him to shiver—one that rippled through him, heightening his senses. Her rich chocolate-laced scent filled the room, urging him to rush their first union.
He wouldn’t, though, not with his Callie.
Tonight would be her first conscious feeding, and he needed it to be perfect. He didn’t want her to fear what was going to be a necessary part of her life.
Fluttering his fingers down her neck to brush her breasts, he toyed with her nipples. She writhed beneath him, her need calling to him. She was honest to a fault, honest with her reactions to him—to his touch—hiding nothing from him. Her trust amazed him, calling forth a smile even as his heart blossomed. His breath hitched under that potent warmth of—dare he hope— happiness?
Unable to sift through the emotions she invoked within him, with lust clouding his mind, he rolled over her, pinning her to the bed. She spread her thighs, and his hips slid into a position as old as time. His erection brushed her heated essence, her need drenching him. He shuddered, wishing he could bury himself in her with one thrust.
But he couldn’t. This was her first time, and he wanted to make it as pain-free and pleasurable as possible. Relying on his century-honed patience, he held himself back, inching in at an achingly slow pace.
He feathered kisses down her neck, scraping his fangs teasingly. Her throat vibrated on a moan as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his adoring hands. Her body flushed, and goosebumps spread across her creamy skin. She tempted him to taste every inch of her, to trace the path down to where she wept for him. He leaned back to trail his fingers to the red curls at the juncture of her thighs, beckoning him to ecstasy.
The whimper that tore from her shook him to his core. He dipped his fingers into her moist lips, marveling at the scent, the heat, and the silkiness of her. She trembled, her breath jarring when he rubbed her swollen nub. Sliding a finger into her, he pumped her, flicking his thumb across the bundle of nerves. Her reaction was instantaneous. Her hips rose off the bed, gyrating hypnotically.
Had he known she was this aroused, this close, he might have eased her discomfort after her shower. It didn’t matter now—it meant he would be inside her sooner. Her breath came in gasps as he increased the rhythm, listening to the beat of her heart.
He admired her features, the toss of her head from side-to-side, her mouth parting to allow her tongue to dampen her bottom lip. Then she stilled, frozen on the cusp, and her heartbeat paused. With a single thumb flick from him, she screamed his name, coming apart in his arms, her body twitching, her nipples puckering as she found her release.
She was so beautiful, his Callie.
Surrendering her grip on his bedding, she floated down to reality. She spasmed around his finger as he withdrew it. Her mouth parted on a silent oh , but as he positioned himself to thrust into her, she moaned, her excitement echoing his.
He slid into her wet sheath, amazed at the silkiness, at the strength with which she grasped his length and tugged him deeper into her. His nipples tightened, tingles of anticipation traveling along the length of his erection. She grasped his upper arms, even as she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him on, pulling him into her core.
His orgasm rushed toward him with too much enthusiasm, having not allowed himself the enjoyment of being in her. After what he’d endured the past few days, he didn’t want it to end soon. He wanted to savor every one of her unconscious reactions. She incited him to lose his mind, to sacrifice his control. While he sucked her nipple, his control snapped. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast, and at the final thrust into her, seconds away from an implosion, he bit her.
Dark chocolate greeted him as he shattered in her. Her channel fluttered around his sensitized nerves and urged him into a second implosion. Her sheath milked him, shooting shivers through him, his body twitching at the subsiding euphoria. Yet it didn’t leave him completely, it hovered in anticipation of a third release.
He licked her wound closed and fell to his side, taking her with him. He stayed buried within her, kept her sprawled across his chest. Every move she made burned into his memory—her fingers brushing his skin, her gasps as she tried to catch her breath.
“I’ll need you to take some of my blood, Callie, love,” he whispered. He couldn’t rouse the energy to raise the volume of his voice.
“Okay,” she said before she kissed his nipple. Her touch burned him, leaving an invisible imprint on his sensitive skin. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t have your sharp teeth.”
His chest swelled at her concern, at her easy acceptance of what he required of her, and at her trust. He held up a finger, extended his fingernail, and sliced at his chest, above his left nipple.
She squeaked at the scarlet fluid that oozed out of him. Without encouraging her further, she dipped her head and licked the cut. She released a throaty moan and latched onto him, sucking. The tug of her mouth reached down to his balls as she toyed with his nipple.
He gripped her hips and pumped into her with a desperation that bordered on insanity. She gasped and released his skin to arch her back, thrusting her hips to meet his. He sat up, wrapped both arms around her, buried his face in her neck and exploded again.
Falling back, he took her with him, keeping her trapped against him.
“Hot damn,” She mumbled into his neck. “That was amazing,” she said with a sigh.
She dipped a finger into his parted mouth and traced his saliva across his wound. His heart lurched at this gesture. Warmth of another kind flooded his chest, and the ability to breathe escaped him.
“I’m not your prisoner, nor your feeder…how about sex slave?”
He chuckled—the unexpected humor surprised him—merging with the warmth in his chest to form…hope.
She giggled. “I ought to arrest you for having sex with a minor.”
“Unavoidable,” he said as he kissed her temple. “How old are you, Callie?”
“Almost twenty-nine,” she said as she traced a pattern on his shoulder with a fingertip. “You’re the sexiest geriatric I’ve ever met.” She grinned before leaning in to brush her lips across his.
He claimed her mouth for his own, deepening the kiss. He couldn’t help himself—he adored the taste of her.