Fangs But No Fangs (18 page)

She sat before him all perfect pale skin. Her rounded breasts tilted upward slightly under the pink cotton of her bra, the shadow of her dusky areolas and hardened nipples visible through the wet material.

He stared, wondering if he'd ever seen anything as beautiful as this woman, rain-soaked, aroused, and waiting for his touch. He dropped his head, drawing one of those tight buds between his lips. She cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders, her hips grinding against his. He started to pull away, to be sure she was finding pleasure, when her desire swirled around him like the electrical snaps of the lightning above. He sucked harder and received another broken cry.

With amazement, he realized he could make her come with just his mouth on her breasts. It was a heady, powerful realization. Especially given he hadn't pleasured a mortal in nearly two hundred years. Her arousal fueled his. He cupped a hand behind her head, then pressed her down on the silver metal. She held tight to his shoulders, pulling him with her.

Her lips found his, tasting him hungrily.

He lost himself in the thrilling sweetness of the kiss, until the touch threatened to drive him mad. He waited for the madness to trigger his hunger, but it didn't. All he felt was intense desire, overwhelming and so fierce. And here he was feeling so damned proud he could excite her so easily. She had amazing power over him.

He pulled away and moved his hands back to her breasts, testing the shape of them in his palms. She writhed against him. He found the tiny clasp of her bra nestled in the valley of her breasts, and flicked it open. The scraps of material fell away, leaving her bare.

He caught her wrists, spreading her arms wide, and he simply looked at her. Eating up the wanton sight of her. Rain beaded like glittering jewels on the pale mounds, clinging to the rosy tips. He leaned forward and licked the droplets from her pink, swollen nipple.

Her hands knotted in his hair, her body squirming against his, her hips bucking his. He slid his hands down her body to the button of her shorts. He tore his lips away from her beautiful breasts, watching her again as he worked the button undone.

She remained spread across the hood, watching him in return with heavy-lidded eyes. Her desire snapped around him, flicking at his skin, pleading for more. And he wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her everything.

He slowly worked open the zipper and he pulled down the shorts just enough to see her pink panties, and to slip his fingers down inside them. Jolee bucked wildly at the scant touch, his fingers just brushing the tight curls of her sex. He caressed her again. He had forgotten how a woman's hair felt against his fingertips, springy and a little coarse. And how slick and smooth and hot the skin was just beyond.

He stroked her again, this time finding the bud nestled at the top of her sex. He started to swirl a finger around the tiny nub, testing how much or how little pressure to use, when Jolee rose up, pressing his hand between their hips, grinding against him.

"Oh my God," she breathed against his neck, digging her fingers into his back. "Oh my God."

She cried out, her muscles tensing. Just as her release began to scent the air, spicy and awe-inspiring, he felt the sharp edges of her teeth bite into his flesh.

Roughly, he jerked out of her embrace, backing away from her, seeing another woman in her place.

"Lilah."

Jolee didn't believe it was possible for something so wonderful to turn horrendous in mere seconds. She covered her bared breasts, searching frantically for her T-shirt, which was in a clump right beside her. With one arm still shielding her breasts, she snatched it up. The material, sopping wet from the rain, remained in a clinging ball. A broken, frustrated cry escaped her as she struggled with the stupid thing, shaking it with one hand, trying to straighten the sticking cotton.

Christian caught her hand, gently stopping her frenzied struggle. She jerked her hand out of his loose grip, but also let the knotted shirt plop back to the hood. Refusing to meet his gaze, she tried to decide what to do, what to say. She was such a fool.

She recoiled as something damp but warm settled over her shoulders, and she realized Christian had taken off his own shirt and placed it around her shoulders. She started to shrug the garment off, but then thought better of the idea. Her pride was not worth remaining naked.

She slid down from the hood, turned her back to him, and fastened her bra. The wet cotton chafed her still sensitive nipples, another reminder of what she'd just done. She was a thousand different kinds of fool. Maybe more.

With trembling hands, she struggled with the buttons of his shirt. Then his hands were on her shoulders, trying to turn her to face him. She pulled away, still not looking at him. She couldn't. She didn't want to see the beautiful face that had so easily sweet-talked her. She'd really believed he was being honest with her. That he wanted a relationship—with her. She never would have let things get that out of control if she believed otherwise. Damn it.

She gave up on the buttons and clutched the front closed with her hand. On unsteady legs, she found her tote in a puddle where she must have dropped it when he'd first kissed her. Rain had soaked the top and mud seeped through the bottom.

"Great," she muttered. She slung the ruined bag onto her shoulder, this time not the least bit worried about his expensive shirt, and started shakily toward the road.

"Jolee," he called, his voice low and filled with worry. His deceptive voice.

She heard his feet splashing in the puddles as he followed her.

"Please, wait."

"No."

"You can't walk in this weather."

She laughed, the sound brittle. "Well, you didn't think the weather was too much of an issue few minutes ago."

She continued toward the road. Suddenly her legs, which were still wobbly, came out from under her, although it was with the help of Christian. He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing at all and strode back to his car.

She struggled, kicking her legs, pushing at his chest.

"Put me down!"

He acted as if he didn't even hear her. She shoved his chest with all her might, but he didn't even seem to notice. With shocking ease, he held her, opened his car door, and placed her inside. Even in her fury, she couldn't help being a little impressed by that kind of strength.

"Stay there," he warned, then closed the door. She debated getting out and running. But what would be the point? He'd probably just catch her again. No, she'd sit here quietly and get a ride home. Just as she should have earlier. She never should have listened to him.

He came around to the driver's side and slid in. He didn't say a word as he started the car's engine and sped out of the parking lot, gravel grinding under the wheels.

Within minutes, he pulled up to her trailer. Before the car had even come to a full stop, she opened the door and jumped out, racing up her steps and into the trailer. She locked the door, then crossed into the living room, her breaths coming in shallow puffs as she tried to calm down. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked to keep them at bay. She would not cry about this. This would not be the thing that finally broke her. He wasn't worth her tears.

And as angry as she was with him, she was angrier with herself. She was so, so stupid. The episode in the parking lot had been as much her fault as his. She'd been the one who kissed him again. The one who trusted him. Trusted him, even after he'd told her straight out that he had nothing to give a relationship.

He'd told her he'd been hurt. And it wasn't as though she hadn't already deduced there must have been another woman. She had even wondered if there was still another woman. Well, there obviously was— Lilah. And it didn't much matter if she was a had been or a still was. If he was calling out her name when he was with another woman, Lilah was still very much in Christian's mind.

A sharp rap sounded on the door. She didn't move, didn't look toward the sound. It was Christian, of course, and she didn't want to talk to him. Not now. Likely never.

He pounded again, this time the thin particle board shaking under his resolve. Still she didn't move.

Not until the rattle of the doorknob did she realize that the stupid lock probably wouldn't hold. She spun around, ready to grab a chair and wedge the back under the handle, but Christian was already in the room. He stood only a few feet away from her, and she wondered at his speed. She hadn't even heard him open and close the door, yet here he was in her living room.

"Leave."

He shook his head. "No. We have to talk."

"I don't see any point. Please just go."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"That damned lock," she muttered.

"You need a new one," he agreed automatically, then added, "Although I would have kicked the door in anyway."

She didn't doubt his words. The idea that he would do such a thing should have scared her, but it didn't. Scared or not, she didn't want him here.

"Christian, I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I just want to go back to before I met you."

"I want that, too. But it isn't going to happen."

She knew he was right, of course.

"But I can start forgetting you now," she said. "Tonight. Please, please just go."

She knew she was pleading, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to her right now was getting him out of her sight. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't think about how she'd reacted to his touch. How easily she'd given herself over to him. While he was imagining another woman.

"I can't leave," he told her flatly. "I can't leave you hurting. Not because of me."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, amazed at her sudden bravado, especially since, on the inside, she felt like curling up and dying. "You can't change what happened. And you can't change the fact that I was a fool and believed that you could give me something that you yourself said you couldn't. We just need to stop this, now."

He nodded, and for just a moment she thought he was agreeing to leave, and to leave her alone. Instead of triumph, she just felt more miserable.

But he didn't leave. His gaze roamed around the room as if he was searching for something. Finally his eyes stopped on her.

"I met Lilah a long time ago."

Jolee opened her mouth to tell him she didn't care. She didn't want to hear, but she couldn't bring herself to say a word. She did want to know.

"She was beautiful and charming and seductive, and I fell for her the first moment I spoke to her. And she seemed to feel the same way."

Despite her hurt and anger, she didn't doubt it. There was something about this man that was so captivating, so alluring, and it went beyond his stunning good looks.

"I believed she was the love of my life, my soul mate."

Jolee's heart twisted in her chest, amazed that she could feel this much pain about the fact he had loved another woman. She had no reason to feel so hurt— it wasn't as if they were in love. But she couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to be loved by this man. As he said, to be the love of his life, his soul mate.

"My family didn't accept her," he said, his expression faraway and troubled. "My oldest brother, Rhys, specifically tried to tell me that she wasn't what I thought. That she didn't love me. I didn't listen. I just cut them off. I wouldn't allow anyone to come between me and Lilah. We were destined to be together, and in my mind, everyone was just jealous of what we had."

He laughed then, a cold, low laugh that made her shiver. "Jealous of what we had. It wasn't until too late that I realized we had nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Despite herself, Jolee asked, "What happened?"

Christian didn't know how to answer that question. He couldn't tell Jolee about all the horrible things he had done at Lilah's bidding. All the pain he'd inflicted, because that pleased her. Excited her. The times he'd bitten mortals, violently, brutally, just to arouse her. Blood was the only thing that did excite her, and she loved to watch his attacks. In his madness to keep her pleased, he gratified her as she asked. Through bloodletting, through biting. And her appetite for both were boundless.

Love through vicious cruelty. Why hadn't he seen then what she was? Why couldn't he have seen the truth sooner? Before what he'd done to Jane— and to his brother. His brother.

Christian forced his attention to Jolee. To this slender mortal with dark, sad eyes and lush lips who was just beginning to remind him of everything that was good and showing him again that passion didn't have to hurt. That arousal didn't wound. That satisfaction didn't have to end in pain. He couldn't lose Jolee. He knew she was somehow tied to his redemption. He had to have her forgiveness. Just a little forgiveness for all he'd done wrong.

"My family was right. Lilah didn't love me. She was a cruel, vindictive creature who wanted nothing more than to control and manipulate."

Jolee considered him for a moment, then she tilted her head, an unconvinced look in her eyes. "Well, plenty of people continue to love terrible people."

"I hate her." And he realized the statement was true. There was not an ounce of love left in him. Even the strange emptiness that he attributed to her being gone no longer niggled at him.

"There is a fine line between love and hate," Jolee said.

"I agree. And I mistook hate for love for too many years. I won't ever do that again."

"Then why?" Jolee gave him a pained look. "Why did you call out her name?"

He'd called out because the sensation of Jolee's release and the feeling of her teeth on his neck at the same time had made him think, for just an instant, that Lilah was back. For two hundred years, he had not experienced one without the other. Release and violence went together, because not only did Lilah like to watch biting, she liked to bite herself. Christian had been her favorite toy to ravage in her lust. Vicious, sadistic bites that made him wonder now how she hadn't killed him.