Page 81 of The Vampire Curse

I pull back to look him in the eye. “I want the second mark,” I say.

His eyes darken with want even as his hands press my body tighter against his. “Are you sure?”

I nod, then lick my lips. “Yes—as long as you don’t leave or send me away. I want you to stay with me this time.”

“I wouldn’t be able to fight it, even if I wanted to,” he says.

I swallow. We are not talking just about the mark, but what will come after.

“And… do you want to fight it?”

“No,” he says softly.

In a swift, world-tilting movement, he flips us, tucking me under him.

“Are you sure, Clara?” he asks again, even as my knees straddle his hips.

Red rings form around his brilliant blue irises. He looks at me as if I own the night, and he can’t bear to live under the sun’s harsh rays.

“Yes,” I say, and the word comes out breathless.

Alaric brushes a lock of hair from my shoulder, then lowers his head, pressing his mouth to my neck. He places a series of soft, slow kisses along my skin. Then I feel the point of his fangs, but he doesn’t bite down.

Heat sears through my veins as I hold my breath in anticipation. Alaric’s hand glides down over my breast and lingers only a second before he moves down my ribs, my hip, and my thigh. His palm slides back up my calf under my skirt to my knee and up my thigh. My heart is in my throat as he reaches my core. All the while Alaric continues to place kisses along my heated skin. My breathing picks up as his thumb moves in circles.

I gasp as his fangs pierce my skin at the same moment his fingers enter me. My body reacts to him of its own accord.

The power of his mark driving me to want him more and more, but it’s not only that—the way he moves—I feel like I am being pushed to the edge as I feel myself building, as I writhe beneath him. I lift my hips, wanting so much more.

The room suddenly feels too warm. I clutch his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My back arches and I am falling, my orgasm lashing through me.

Alaric withdraws his hand when I come down from my high then settles back to where he was before, hips nestled between my legs. I can feel his desire press against me through his clothes.

He reaches up and rests his hand over the bite marks. Red power lights up his face as my flesh knits itself back together. I know without checking that two small scars remain.

When the glow fades, he opens his eyes and stares down at me. I wonder what he sees.

“Alaric,” I say his name, pleading for more.

Sitting up, Alaric pulls me to him. I sit on his lap, a leg on either side of his hips, there’s no space between us, and I rest my forehead against his. The power of his mark is still humming through our veins. I can feel his hard length beneath me. I grind against him, wanting him even more than a few moments ago.

“Clara…” he says my name, and his face is a picture of heat and torture.

I want to give in to this feeling. I don’t want to think; I don’t want to stop. I could blame it on the mark, but I know at least an equal part is what I want… what I’ve wanted for longer than I’m willing to admit.

I run my hands up his arms and across his broad chest. My fingers find the top of his shirt and unbutton it, then down to the second. When I reach the third, he grabs my wrists, pausing my movements.

There’s something in his eyes, something uncertain. So I lean forward, Alaric’s large sapphire eyes, framed by his beautiful thick lashes, slide closed, and I press my mouth to his, kissing him long and slow.

His hands release mine and grip my hips, and I resume unbuttoning his shirt down to the very bottom. Alaric’s tongue presses against mine as he deepens the kiss.

Pulling back, I push the opening of his shirt to the sides, sliding my hands over his warm, bare skin. I’d forgotten about the dozens of long, white scars covering his chest and abdomen.

Alaric stiffens, not moving or breathing as I trace several with my fingertips. They are harsh, formed from very deep and very violent wounds.

I look up to see his face is turned away. There’s more to these than what I can even begin to guess. I lean down and press my lips to one scar. He shivers under my touch, but he doesn’t stop me. Then I kiss another and another.

There’s something remarkable about the lines that mark his skin, something that makes him even more stunning to look at than if his skin had been flawless.