Jacob (18 page)

Jacob could not withhold.

He gripped her hips even harder, adding more bruises of intensity, and dragged her to the very tip of his rigid shaft. She cried out his name with wild demand and he felt her instantly pushing back against him, trying to force what his hold on her prevented. But even the beast within him had waited too long for this to not savor it. While he taunted her, he enjoyed her little noises and desperate movements. He rubbed against her again and again, causing her to buck with mindless pleasure as he stimulated her every expectant sense. Then he was at that precious threshold, sweat dripping from his hair and onto the small of her back as the restraint punished him as badly as it tortured her.

Finally, he released.

Jacob plunged into her in one brutal clash of their pelvises. He had not meant to. He had meant to absorb every second of pleasure he could from the progression of entering her. However, a moment before his erotic dive into her body, she had called to him.

“Jacob... ” she had gasped, her head thrashing wildly from side to side, her very flesh trembling against him. “Please! Come into me. Please... ”

This had been the blade that had sliced through his last thread of control. Fast or slow, she was so tight, so blindingly hot and wet, so perfectly crafted for him that it was the most tremendous experience of his lifetime, to finally be matched deep within her.

Isabella was so filled by Jacob she wondered why she did not burst. There was a flash of pain, but no more or less than the few bruises she’d already forgotten. She could not be bothered with it. There was far too much calling for her attention, calling for her pleasure. Jacob was calling for her, a low-seated rumble in his breast boiling up and over her shoulders as he bent over her small frame, letting them both absorb his first invasion.

She was not patient enough to wait for him. She tilted her hips and pulled herself forward, reveling in the hard slide of granite moving within her body, instinctively flexing feminine muscles to keep him seated within herself. Jacob’s reaction was explosive in both sound and action. He cursed, again an impassioned compliment taken in context, and then released a soul-rending groan. He reached for her neck, his long, powerful fingers grasping and curling around the delicate column. His opposite hand drove up from her hip to her waist, the perspiration coating her skin making it a slick movement. Jacob reseated himself again, a thrust so profound and rough that it actually lifted her knees off the bed. A rowdy, primal sound erupted from his lips as she squirmed eagerly in compliance, her rough breath rasping beneath the press of his index finger on her throat.

The room trembled, the Earth reflecting his loss of control, the glass chimneys of gaslights and the panes of stained-glass windows jingling as the tremor increased. Jacob surged into her again, rooting himself as deeply in the sacred ground of her body as was possible. All the while, the bed was vibrating with the quaking of the house’s foundations.

She was scorching heat, captivating wetness, the impossible tightness of her first sexual experience.

Jacob... don’t... please... don’t stop. Never stop.

Jacob groaned softly, moving with a slow, punctuated rhythm within her. He rode into her tight, wonderful body and reeled from the fervent high that resulted. Her passion was a sparkling prism of light and want, guiding him closer to her in the ways beyond the physical. He had no thought of controlling the vibrating world outside of the sphere of their awareness. Jacob understood only that he now shared space with the relentless, feral creature that vocalized, felt the need to mark her with teeth and the lengthening of nails that scored her soft body in long red lines. But at the same time she was too beautiful not to drag his heart and soul into the mixture. For that moment, he truly felt as though everything about and within him was coming together cohesively.

“Jacob,” Bella purred in encouragement. “Oh, yes... ”

He smiled with sly pleasure when his name passed her lips in that sultry manner, that spur of beckoning need that she could not cloak. He pulled back, reveling in the slick sensation for a second. Isabella gasped out, overwhelmed with a sense of grasping loss, her hips writhing back toward his instinctively.

It is not enough, little flower.

She didn’t have time to ask. He left her, making her whimper in her shock and dismay. But then he was turning her over again, this time with amazing gentleness, drawing up her legs, coaxing them around his hips as he lay over her stretched-out body.

I must taste your mouth, little flower, while I am inside you. I must look into your eyes and see your pleasure.

So he seized her mouth with great need, devouring the delicacy she provided for him as he breached deeply into her eager body.

“Bella,” he groaned against her mouth, repeating the depth of the thrust and being rewarded with amazingly increased feedback. Heat. Embrace. Eager, excited moisture. Everything about her drawing him in. She was perfect. He had never known such perfection—had never, in all his centuries, come anywhere close. This was a meshing of body, mind, and soul. It was enough to make him curse himself for waiting so long to be with her, even though he’d only known her for a few days. For possibly allowing her to get away, although he knew he could never have held her if she had been forced to his embrace.

Her scent, her textures, and her thoughts, they all surrounded him and filled him as he was filling her. He knew in that second, as he moved energetically within her body and felt the matching rhythm coming to her so naturally, that he was indeed fulfilling Destiny. He slipped into Isabella’s mind, feeling the build of pleasure climbing hot and tense within her. He slid his hands over her, sought sensitive spots, purposely fanning the focused flame. It was incredible to feel it from her perspective, the growth of her first taste of release, of ultimate ecstasy. He guided his movements within her by following the sharp flutters of pleasure that whirled through her awareness at first one thrust and then the next. He learned the best way to cause her the keenest delight.

She began to gasp with each successive movement he made inside her, her hands clutching his shoulders violently, her thoughts screaming her euphoria into his soul. And suddenly Isabella exploded, a screaming starburst of rapture that flashed hot and bright, the purity of her bliss forcing him to join her in the cataclysmic release.

“Isabella!” Jacob had to claim her by name as he felt the detonation of climax raking through him. He came with violent, lurching spasms of pleasure that went on and on until he was pulsing the deepest parts of his soul into her. The intensity was so profound, he was certain that by the time it ended, she would know his every secret dream, need, and hope.

Every window in the house exploded, the tension of the conflicting twists of their casements finally reaching the breaking point. Jacob jerked Isabella’s head to his chest, his broad back and shoulders protecting her from the shower of colorful glass that rained down from the stained glass picture window above the headboard of the bed.

It was several long, breathless minutes before either of them could move. Isabella suddenly realized the room beyond them was in chaos, and she wriggled her head out of his protective hold to view the destruction. Furniture was toppled and glass was strewn everywhere, including the bed they were lying in.

Finally, she looked up into his eyes, ignoring the concern so clearly reflected in them and smiling like a cat that had just discovered the birdcage was unlocked.

“It’s a good thing you don’t live in California,” she remarked.

“Are you kidding? With all those active fault lines?”

Jacob touched her nose with a fingertip a moment before their bodies faded to dust. The next she knew, she was solid again and all the surrounding glass had been swept away.

“Neat. I bet you make a fabulous houseguest,” she laughed, allowing him to draw her up over his body as he rolled onto his back.

“I am an excellent duster,” he said.

“So I noticed.” Isabella slid a knee on either side of his hips and slowly sat up, pressing her hands on his chest as leverage, still feeling a little weak after their tumultuous activities.

Jacob smiled, drinking in the incredible vision she made straddling him, her bare breasts and body marked with the branding of his mouth and hands, her tumble of hair curling like silky black smoke all around her, one stray tendril of it hooking around her left nipple. He stacked his hands behind his head and basked, not caring if she knew how self-satisfied he was.

“Well, you look very pleased with yourself,” she noted, her hands going to her hips in that familiar gesture. Jacob wondered if she realized how it made her breasts thrust out in an all-too-fetching manner. Unable to resist, he removed a hand from behind his head and followed that curl of hair hooked stubbornly around her nipple.

Isabella held her breath and then sighed at how the simple touch stirred her so deeply. Just when she thought she was completely exhausted, she found she wanted him all over again. She was beset with the sense of having a lot to catch up on. It made her lips twitch and her eyes sparkle with renewed hunger.

“Oh boy,” Jacob groaned. “I know that look.”

“Do you?” she asked archly, reaching to trace the muscles of his chest with a fingertip.

“Even if I could not share your thoughts, little flower, I would know. It is the look of a young person who has just discovered their libido.”

“Is that right?” She splayed her hands over his ribs, leaning forward on them until she could touch his nipple with her tongue, all the while maintaining her lock on his eyes.

“Did I mention,” he groaned, “that I am probably too old for this?”

She rolled her eyes, apparently not impressed by his perspective. She scraped her teeth over the little nub her attentions had created.

“Aren’t you sore?” he attempted.

What’s your point?

“Ow. What the hell... ?”

“Get off me.”

Jacob responded immediately, the tone of her voice compelling him to obey without question. She slid out of bed, the low, quick movements she made to retrieve her clothes putting Jacob on full alert. He stretched out his instincts even as he too got out of bed and crouched low to the ground. He drew on his pants as Bella, several moves ahead of him, crept up into the narrow frame of the window that had been above the headboard, balancing on the balls of her feet on the sill.

Wait for me
, he commanded.

Can you feel it?

No. Tell me what you are feeling.

I don’t know. It’s... dark. It feels... evil.

He watched as she touched her fingers to her tongue and peered at them in the dark. He sensed what she was looking for. She was tasting the unmistakable tang of blood in her mouth, but it wasn’t her own.

It is an illusion. Remember that. Your empathy is real to
someone else, not yourself.
Jacob was behind her, peering out over her shoulder, still trying to find what she had such a powerful hold on.

Suddenly, Bella gasped and whirled around.

But she was a moment too late.

The intruder in the room swung something out into the darkness, connecting with the back of Jacob’s head and sending him crashing into the dresser beside the bed. Bella cried out, leaping into the shadowy room from the sill she was perched on and making unerring contact with the malevolence that had struck Jacob down. Her hands slammed into its chest, grabbed fistfuls of fabric, and yanked forward as she brought her knee up into its vulnerable belly. Then she shoved back and snapped the hard flat of her palm into the attacker’s nose.

The invader reeled back, but only slightly. The recovery was swift considering the force of her assault. The intruder swung out, fisting her so hard across the face that her head snapped back. Bella was stunned, but in some part of her mind she was aware that she wasn’t even a fraction as injured as she should be. It swung at her again and she blocked with her forearm; it punched and she leaned swiftly out of range, then she shot the edge of her hand hard up into its vulnerable throat.

Its cry of pain was male and short lived. He reached up and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her so hard by it that she did a complete 180 on the heel of her foot. She was falling back, off balance, into her foe, even as a queer blue light suddenly erupted into the room, highlighting the raised hand it was coming from as he reached for her throat. “Demon bitch!” he hissed at her, coughing for her satisfaction from her last strike.

The blue bolt of magic that shot from his fingertips lanced through her with shocking pain, causing her entire body to convulse, every hair on her standing at attention from the electrical charge.

“His name! Tell me his name!” He had released her hair, his arm locking around her throat and choking her as he sent another bolt of energy through her body. She seized for a long minute before he cut the bolt off from her and let her fall slack in his grasp. “Give me his name, or I will kill you.”

“Never,” she croaked, without even knowing why she should be protecting Jacob’s name from this monster. All she knew was that if she didn’t break free soon, she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen or he was going to fry her from the inside out.

He loosened his hold so he could draw a knife from his sleeve and hold it to her throat. “Feel that, demon whore?” He pressed the blade into her flesh. “It’s made of iron. I assure you, it has all the spells necessary to cut your head from your shoulders.”

That’s when Isabella finally absorbed the fact that he thought she was a Demon. She suddenly saw an advantage to it, screaming out as if the iron was causing her pain.

“Yeah, that’s right. Hurts, doesn’t it? Now give me his name or I’ll kill you! Then after I kill you, I’ll kill your lover. Look!”

He jerked her around so she could see Jacob lying on the floor. He even caused the room to brighten with his magic so she could see the blood pooling around Jacob’s body. The vast emptiness of thought from him terrified her far more than the sight of his blood. Panic welled up in a distant corner of her mind, her heart aching in response, but she angrily pushed it all aside and focused.

“I bet you’re wondering how I took him out so easy. Well, you’ll find out if you don’t open that mouth of yours and
give me his name
!”

“His name... ” she croaked.

“Yes, tell me,” he said eagerly.

“Bond. James Bond.”

Isabella slammed her head back, crashing into his face with her skull. She saw brilliant stars at the impact, but still she grabbed the hand with the knife in it and bit him as hard as she could. He shrieked, but she locked her jaw until the knife dropped from his fingers. Then she whirled around and sent her knee up into his groin with every last ounce of her newfound strength. He fell to the floor with another screech, writhing in pain, cupping his abused privates. Isabella tossed her hair back and glared down at her victim.

“Have a nice sex change, you son of a bitch.”

With that, she swung out her foot and kicked him in the head. He lost consciousness with a little whimper, his head snapping and then lolling back in her direction. She nudged him hard with her toe in his pained parts, knowing it would take impossible control for him to fake unconsciousness under the circumstances.

Satisfied, she dropped to Jacob’s side, oblivious to the fact that she was kneeling in his blood. She searched in the dim light for the wound it was coming from. At first all she found was the blood in his mouth, apparently from biting his tongue after striking his head on the dresser during his fall. It wasn’t until she turned him over that she discovered a deep gash in his shoulder and the back of his head. They were in line with one another, so whatever he had been hit with had been long as well as sharp. Probably another cursed blade of some kind. Probably made of iron.

Isabella began to feel the tight grip of fear locking around her chest. She remembered from her reading that iron in the hands of a necromancer could kill a Demon. The vital, magnificent being who had been making such incredible love to her only a short while ago could very well be dying in her arms.

“Oh, please,” she prayed on a sob, “please let Legna hear me!”

LEGNA!
Her mind screamed the Demon empath’s name, the pain of her heart howling behind it.
LEGNA! HELP ME!