Enslaved by the Others (33 page)

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Authors: Jess Haines

Tags: #Mystery, #Detective, #Fantasy, #shape-shifters, #Women Sleuths, #Vampires

BOOK: Enslaved by the Others
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“Alec,” I said, tossing the pillow aside so I could crawl on top of him, with a lot less grace than the vampire, “we’re starting over. Right now. Right this minute. We’re making this better.
I’m
making this better. I’m having my happily ever after, damn it, and if you stop me, so help me God, I will ... I’ll . . . I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”

This time, his laughter was a bit more hearty, and maybe a bit relieved. He rolled onto his back, his hands settling at my waist as he grinned up at me. “As my lady commands. By all means, have your way with me.”

Last time we’d spent the night together, he had made it a point to get to know every part of me. Exploring every inch of my body, learning exactly where to touch me to make me into a quivering mess. Now, it was my turn.

I ran a finger down his chest, tracing the curvature of every scar, bone, and muscle, familiarizing myself with his skin. His own hands slid down to my ass, kneading lightly, but otherwise doing nothing to distract me from the task at hand. I got the idea he knew what I wanted.

He hissed softly when I leaned down and traced the same paths with my tongue. His grip on me tightened when I bit his nipple, my fingers tweaking the other, mimicking the light pinch of my teeth. His skin was cool and satiny under my touch, intriguing rather than putting me off.

“Naughty,” he whispered, and I grinned, glancing up to waggle my brows at him. His laugh faded into a groan as I ground my hips against him to let him know he wasn’t the only one turned on right now.

Inching my way down his body, I kissed and licked and nipped my way along the trail of dark hair leading to the juncture of his thighs. His fingers slid up my sides and along my ribs to tangle in my hair, and I’ll admit I took a bit too much enjoyment being the one with the power this time around. This close, his scent, musky and male, made it easy to sink into the moment and forget about all the things that had me worried before.

Even an ancient vampire could only take so much. As his growl took on a deeper edge, his absent shifting growing impatient with the feel of my breath on the most sensitive of skin, I took him into my mouth. Like velvet ice, cool and slick against my tongue. His back arched, just a bit, the low sound he made filling me with a delicious warmth at knowing that I was the one responsible for dragging that reaction out of him.

Judging by the rhythmic way his fingers tightened by my scalp, he was enjoying the hell out of this. When I tilted my head just a bit so I could catch a glimpse of his face, the hint of vermillion in his eyes and carnal twist of his lips, exposing his fangs, sent a thrill down my spine.

When the muscles in his abdomen began to tighten, I gasped as I found myself on my back, him looming over me, no freaking clue how it had happened. He must have moved like lightning, shoving me into the bedding. His ragged—and entirely unnecessary—breathing told me better than anything else that I hadn’t lost my touch.

“That,” he said, breathless and lisping very slightly around fangs, “was delightful, but unless you wish to risk being bound again, best not to finish that way.”

Once my heart worked its way out of my throat and back down in my chest where it belonged, I wrinkled my nose as the meaning of his words hit me. “Okay, ew. Talk about a mood killer.”

He ducked his head between my neck and shoulder, nibbling at the skin there before his lips drifted up to whisper in my ear. “I’ll just have to do something about that, won’t I?”

I poked at his chest. “My turn, remember? Roll your ass over.”

That gave him pause. He pulled back, probably checking to see if I meant it. With a growing smile, he did as I demanded, remaining obediently still as I moved to straddle him again.

Pausing before doing anything else, I frowned down at him. “Should you be wearing a condom? Am I going to—”

“No, sweet. It’s only an issue if you swallow any fluids. An enzyme in your saliva keeps the virus from breaking down before it gets into the bloodstream. Though if it worries you, I suppose I can send someone out to pick some up—”

“No! No, that’s fine.” My turn to cut him off. This was a subject I did not want to explore, now, or maybe ever. Cripes, I couldn’t imagine the embarrassment of facing Mouse or Clarisse or whoever he would send out on that little errand. Besides, I trusted his word. If it were really a problem, then chances were after the last few times we’d had sex, I would have been permanently bound already. With a shrug, I shoved all those weird thoughts to the back of my mind, reached for him, and grinned. “Well then. Let’s get this party started.”

I took my time, enjoying the sensation of taking him in at my own pace. With my hands braced on his chest, I set the rhythm, the two of us moving together as instinct took over. It was slow and sweet and sensuous, everything I had hoped. Even when his fingers slid over the brand, adjusting the angle of my hips, it barely registered.

Though he had agreed it was my turn to run the show, he did slide a hand between us to help me reach my peak before he hit his. A shiver of pleasure had me throwing my head back, taking to a sensuous grind against him. There was nothing quite so intoxicating as the feel of him reaching the height of his pleasure beneath me, the way his muscles flexed and jerked, and the vibration of his pleased growl under my fingertips.

We didn’t stop there, though our pace slowed, taking our time to revel in the feel of each other. I’m not sure how long we spent entwined like that, touching, tasting, exploring each other in every way. It was sweet and glorious, a heady taste of the sensuality I had missed without the fear and pressure of being trapped beneath him. Maybe not as adrenaline-fueled as our last encounter, but it felt a hell of a lot better not to have that constant doubting voice in the back of my mind the whole time.

Once we both reached satiation for the third or fourth time, I collapsed over him, laughing at the mock-growl he gave me for stopping.

“I need a breather,” I told him, rolling a bit to settle in the crook of his arm.

He leaned in to kiss my temple. “As you wish. I’ll be ready for round two whenever you are.”

“Jeez,” I managed between snorting giggles, “I thought you could read my mind. I’m exhausted. Human stamina, not vampire, remember?”

“Despite appearances,” he said, tone dry, “I am neither perfect nor psychic, and that kind of cavalier abuse of the bond isn’t in my plans for you. Love is a powerful thing, but it does not change people into what you wish they would be.”

I tilted my head up, staring at him. He cocked a brow, questioning.

He looked so damned
casual.
One arm behind his head, the other splayed against his bare chest, sheets rumpled and pillows strewn around like some surreal form of art. The unliving statue of an ancient Grecian god, deigning to meddle in mortal affairs.

I hadn’t had the chance—or, being honest with myself, been brave enough—to ask him directly before now. The one time I had tried, he had used the blood bond to send me slinking back to Chaz without giving me a real answer to my fumbling, ham-handed attempt to get him to come clean about his feelings about me.

“Tell me, Royce. Please, no dancing around it. Do you love me? Really?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Unconditionally. No one has fascinated me the way you do. All those contradictions, all those damaged pieces, all the running and the hiding—the chase told me a great deal about you I don’t think you see. All those little things that add up to someone reckless and foolish and brave. Courageous and true to her friends. Beautiful in a way that this society rarely appreciates.”

I swiped my palms over my eyes, sweeping away the building moisture there. “Brave? I don’t know where you get that idea. I’m always running, reacting without thinking, hurting my friends, hurting myself—”

“Enough,” he said, tone so sharp I was drawn out of my growing funk enough to look at him in surprise. “This is far too familiar ground. You hold yourself responsible for too much and cling to your flaws, real and imagined. Enough with the blame. Enough with feeling sorry for yourself. Give yourself some respect. You won’t get it from anyone else until you do. You can waste years trying—but you will never find that magical ‘good enough’ until you find it in yourself to stand up and accept who you are without reservation or apology.”

I had nothing to say to that. It stung how right he was.

The hurt was mostly realizing that one of the reasons I had fought so hard to face up to what I had become was that it meant letting go of my fear of Others. Of vampires. Acknowledging that my feelings for Royce went beyond that heady mix of horror and lust.

Well, not horror. Not anymore. Even if he still did things that scared me, what made me sweat and plastered my tongue to the roof of my mouth was the thought of letting go of all the excuses that shielded me from accepting that I wasn’t the same person I used to be. That I might have more than just pantsfeelings for a blood-drinking creature of the night. That I was more than human, but still had my humanity.

He was quiet, watching me, probably waiting for the significance of what he said to sink in. Once I looked up from my hands and back to him, he continued, voice soft. Like he thought he might scare me back into being introspective and victimized, ready to find another excuse not to be in the moment if he wasn’t careful.

I was done with that, but I wanted to hear what he had to say before I told him so.

“Most people, when they think of destruction, automatically assume it involves violence. Explosions, fire, and waste. You? The path of self-destruction you’ve been taking is a long road, a gradual wasting away, coming on silent cat’s feet. You doubt yourself. Your humanity. Your ability to cope. You haven’t taken note of what’s been available to you or the opportunities you’ve let slip away because of this quiet path you’ve been walking.

“You will die if you continue on that road. Not because of me. Because you can’t stop yourself from burning out, becoming a shell of who you are and who you could be. Don’t do it to yourself, Shiarra. You’re not a monster. No more than I am.”

Says the vampire who’s been around since before the coming of Christ. Somehow, I managed to bite my tongue long enough to keep from saying that out loud and came up with something a little less snarky.

“I hate how right you are. You always are. I’m not sure if I should be pissed at you for saying it or at myself for needing to hear it.”

He gave me a close-lipped smile, and for once there wasn’t anything sly about it. “Either way, it’s better to be angry than resigned or afraid. It means you’re getting stronger. Finding yourself instead of giving in.” He leaned in, cupping my cheeks and kissing my brow. “I want you to live. No shame, no regrets, no blame. No more fear.”

“No promises,” I said, voice thick.

No. No promises. But from that point forward, I would do my best to be the greatest person I knew how to be. To find that thread of self-respect I used to hold so dear, to be brave and thoughtful and worthy of the words he used to describe me. To stop worrying so much about what he
might
do versus what he’d proved himself to be. A friend. I owed it to him. To Sara. To my family. All the people who loved me, even if they didn’t accept me. Most of all, I owed it to myself.

It took a lot of hard knocks for the lesson to sink in. Sometimes being brave means letting go.

 

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

 

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

 

Copyright © 2014 by Jess Haines

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

 

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

 

 

Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-1-4201-2404-0

First Electronic Edition: July 2014
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3516-9
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3516-3

 

 

Table of Contents

ENSLAVED

Also by

Title Page

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Copyright Page

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