Authors: Shiloh Walker

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

Hunter's Fall (41 page)

BOOK: Hunter's Fall

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“Memphis.” She grinned and pressed her lips to his jaw.

“Memphis, Tennessee. That would explain that sexy drawl of yours.”

“My drawl?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes. Very sexy . . . that Southern accent of yours, I have to say, I do like it, quite a bit.”

He tugged on her hair. “I don’t have an accent. You do. You sound like a prim and proper British schoolteacher and it makes me want to do whatever I can to ruffle your feathers.”

“Ruffle my feathers?” She shifted around in his lap. “Trust me, lover. You have done much more than ruffle my feathers. You’ve shaken the very bedrock of my world.” She skimmed a hand through his hair as she added, “And you damn well do have an accent—a very fine one, too. I swear, all it took was about two words from you and my knickers just about fell off.”

Then she slid a hand down his chest and whispered, “And I’m no prim and proper schoolmarm, English or not. But if you’d like me to pretend . . . ” She closed her fingers around his cock and started to stroke him. “I’d be pleased to oblige.”

“Don’t tease me.” He shot her a lambent, heavy lidded glance. “You going to dress up in some cute little plaid skirt and swat my hand with a ruler if I’m not a good boy?”

A laugh gurgled out of her. “You pervert. And I’m certain it’s the school
girls
who wear the cute little plaid skirts, not the teachers. I’d wear a skinny black skirt with some sexy little slit in the back. Perhaps pearls and a pair of spectacles.”

“Hell, a pair of pearls and some spectacles would do it for me.” He slid a hand down her back, resting it on her rump. In a low, rough voice, he muttered, “But you’re doing it for me now, too, just fine.”

She shifted around. As she took him inside, her breath caught in her chest. “Am I?”

CHAPTER 22

D
AWN was close . . . too close.

Keeping her in his arms, he pressed a kiss to her naked shoulder and murmured, “I need to move to the inner room, Nessa.”

She snuggled back against him. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.” He shot a look at the big picture window over the bed. It faced the east and already, he could see the sky lightening. It was probably going to be a beautiful sunrise—not that he remembered them too well. Sunsets, he could take, but dawn was a distant memory. Too bad, too, because he’d love to lay here with her and watch the night bleed away into day . . . holding her.

“No.” She rolled over onto her belly and stared at the window. A glazed look entered her eyes, and they began to shimmer, swirl and glow. The air around him felt charged and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Magic—shit.

It carried a punch, too, heavy and hot, like a summer thunderstorm—one with a promise of devastation.

Then she blinked, and it was done. Smiling at him, she stroked a finger down his jaw and said, “You have the most powerful witch the Council’s ever seen tucked naked into your bed, Dominic. You could take a walk along the beach at noon without fear, if you wanted.”

“And if I could stay awake.” He slanted a look at the window, a grin curling his lips. “I’ve been waking before sunset for a while now, watch the sun go down every now and then. Over the past few weeks, I’m waking earlier than ever. But . . . well, it’s not the same as being able to lie in a bed during the day and not worry about waking with third-degree burns all over my body.”

Dropping back down, he caught a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “This has been a very insane day, you know. I can’t quite believe you’re here.”

“Nor can I.” She snuggled against his chest and rested a hand just above his heart. She felt one faint beat and a few minutes later, another.
Here. With me
, she thought, amazed.
Alive.

A vampire.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, she whispered, “Tell me how this happened to you . . . how you came to be a vampire, how you came to be
here
. ”

“It’s not a fun story.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s one you’ve probably heard before though. I ended up in the hands of a feral—he bit me, left me to die. A Hunter saved me, brought me through the Change . . . kept me from killing myself those first few weeks.”

“Why would you have killed yourself?” she asked, lifting her head and peering up at him. Her heart hurt. She could feel the echo of his pain, pain he was still working to make peace with.

He could try to make peace with it all he wanted, but she wasn’t ready to even begin—she didn’t even
know
and she was furious. She hurt, she raged . . . she wanted to kill. Kill whoever had harmed him, even though if he hadn’t been bitten, she may have never found him.

The Change was brutal, and when it was forced on a person, even to save their life, it was so much worse.

He was quiet, and she pushed up onto her elbow, staring at him. “Why?” she asked again. “Because you didn’t want to be a vampire?”

“I didn’t want to
live
, ” he said, his voice flat and hard. A dull, ruddy flush stained his cheeks and he looked away, shamed.

Fear curled inside her, a nasty, unwanted little worm that stretched and grew with every passing second.

This was a proud man . . . a confident one. And the Change hadn’t caused it—she recognized the inborn strength inside him. He’d been strong from day one . . . in this life, in the last. Not many things would push a strong man to serious suicidal thoughts.

“The vampire who bit me—the feral . . . ” Dominic sat up and turned his back, staring blindly ahead of him.

Slipping out of the bed, she came around and knelt in front of him, resting her hands on his thighs. Yes . . . she’d heard this story before. He didn’t even have to speak the words. She already knew.

Her heart, it was breaking inside her chest.

And deep inside, the monstrous anger. Thirsting . . . craving . . .

Blood.

Pain.

It was alien—she’d craved vengeance before, many times, but never like this. Never so blindly. Never so . . . cruelly.

Shoving it down, she caught his face in her hands and guided his gaze back to hers. “What did he do to you?”

Dominic’s hands closed around her wrists, squeezing tightly, near to the point of pain. But he didn’t push her away . . . he held her closer. Tighter.

Desperately.

“Whatever cruelty you can think of, he probably did it, or some variation,” he bit off. “That fuck taught me what it was like to be helpless, what it was to truly know fear, and to crave death, the way an addict wants another hit. When he was done, all I wanted to do was die.”

“But you didn’t.” She pressed her lips to his chin.

“No.” The hands on her wrists loosened and when she pulled away, he let her.

Looping her arms around his neck, she said quietly, “Because of the Hunter . . . this one who saved you.”

“Yeah.”

He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t look her in the face, wouldn’t meet her gaze.

Nessa rested her head against his shoulder. “Memphis . . . would it be Rafe?”

A brief pause, and then he said quietly, “Yes. You know him.”

“Hmmm. Yes. There was a time when I knew nearly every Hunter in the world.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and she took advantage of that, leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. When he turned his face to her, she deepened the kiss and then waited until some of the tension inside him, some of his rage and shame faded.

She kept her own feelings tamped down, locked up deep inside.

He had suffered so—the other half of her heart—and she’d done nothing. Hadn’t even known.

“Nearly every Hunter,” she repeated. Giving him a smile, she cupped her face in her hands. “That would be many, many Hunters . . . and now Rafe is my second favorite.”

“Favorite?”

“Yes. You, of course, would have to be my absolute favorite.” She pressed her breasts against him and gave him a coy smile. “While I was never prim and proper, I was a schoolteacher for many, many years.” She paused, frowning. “Although by the time I was teaching, I wasn’t any man’s idea of sexual fantasy material.”

His hands curled around her hips. “Somehow, I don’t quite believe that.”

“Hmmm, well you’ve no idea what I looked like five or six years ago.” Then she frowned. “Was it five or six years ago? Bloody hell, I don’t even know . . . I think it was longer, actually. Nevertheless, trust me, lover. I was no man’s fantasy material.”

He nuzzled her nape and whispered, “I know what happened to you, and I have to admit, while I hate that I left you alone so damn long, I’m not sorry you’re still here . . . however it happened.”

“Such a smooth talker you are.” Sighing, she curled her arms around his neck. “The two of us, we’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Here I am, well past five centuries, and you’re . . .” Her voice trailed off and she scowled. “Do I even want to know how old you are?”

He laughed. More of the tension inside him had slipped away and the faded anger, the remnants of shame were no longer evident in his voice. “I was twenty-four . . . I think . . . when I was changed. Yeah, twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four.” She winced and asked, “And how long ago was that again?”

“Ten years. Give or take.”

“So you’re all of thirty-four. Give or take.”

“Yeah.” He tangled a hand in her hair and tugged her close. “But if it helps you feel like less of a cradle robber, I have memories that go back about as far as yours. Dreams. Crazy dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, I was convinced I was going insane.”

“Dreams.” She shot a look out the window. Sunrise . . . it was so close, and he was still awake and aware. He was a strong vampire—she had only to look at him to know that. In time, he’d be a Master, if he chose. But he was still young and his body would yield to the sun.

Time . . . it was slipping away.

Inwardly, she wanted to curl into a ball and hide.

Outwardly, she gave him a curious smile and hoped she could hide how terrified she was. “Tell me of these dreams.”

His lashes drooped, and as though her thoughts had brought it on, when he looked back at her, the exhaustion was heavy in his eyes. “Dreams. They never made any sense, not until recently. Sometimes it was us . . . back then. I can remember the knife. You crying.”

Her breath caught as he traced a finger down her cheek, following the line of her long-ago tears. “You cried, and I wanted so badly to hold you, promise you everything would be okay. But I couldn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly.

“It wasn’t yours, either.” He caught her hand, kissed it, hard, desperately. “Don’t think I can’t feel how torn up you are inside. Don’t think I don’t know how much you’ve blamed yourself over these years.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” She snapped her mouth shut, wishing she could call the question back.

“You’re not God, my pretty little witch,” he said, a sad, bitter smile curling his mouth. “You were strong back then—I don’t think I can say I
remember
much—what little is there, it’s all hazed, foggy. But I know you were strong. Strong isn’t the same as infallible. You aren’t to blame.”

She looked away. She didn’t feel the same way—perhaps she couldn’t. She’d blamed herself every day since it had happened. Blamed herself . . . blamed God. Even Elias—Dominic. She’d blamed him for leaving her. Leaving her, and not coming back as he’d promised.

But he was back . . .

He eased back on the bed, blowing out a breath. She lay stretched out atop him, holding him close. So close. But not close enough. She could feel the faint, irregular beat of his heart, and the scent of him flooded her head. Against her magical senses, he was a velvety, electric presence—she’d feel him in her sleep. In her every waking moment.

In every last dream she had.

“So you had dreams. But does that mean you remembered? Did you always remember me?”

“No.” His lashes drooped low, lower. He took a deep breath and then opened them, smiling at her.

She felt the weariness. The deep, deep exhaustion.

“No . . . not always. But I always looked for you. Every damn place I went. Every woman I saw. Every voice I heard . . . I looked for you. I had no choice.” His arms tightened around her and then he shifted around. “I had to find you . . . even when I didn’t know what I was looking for.”

Five seconds later, the sun pierced the sky.

Five seconds after that, he was asleep.

And she was left alone with her thoughts, wrapped in his arms . . . and worrying.

No choice.

He’d looked for her because he had no choice. He’d found her, because the same instincts that made him a Hunter would have pushed him to find her.

BOOK: Hunter's Fall

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