Kiss of the Rose (26 page)

For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to contemplate a future without him.

“Could we not pretend we are just Rosalind and Christopher?” she whispered. “That here, in the darkness, we can just be ourselves?”

“Rosalind…”

She sensed he was going to refuse her again and she couldn’t bear it. She shook off his grasp, knelt between his thighs, and dropped her hand to the front of his hose. She tugged at the points that connected his codpiece to his breeches. He grabbed for her wrist, and for a moment, she thought he meant to stop her. Then he cursed and helped her rip at the eyelets and shoved his linen away to reveal his erect cock. He gasped when she wrapped her hand around him.

She studied his swollen flesh, dipped her finger to sample the wetness that escaped from the very tip. His hips angled toward her and he whispered her name. She tightened her grip and felt the hardness beneath the soft skin. His hand covered hers, and he showed her how to slide her fingers up and down his shaft.

While she watched him writhe under her hand, his own hands roamed over her body, inciting a roar of sensations that begged to be satisfied and released. His long fingers slid beneath her jerkin and hose, down over her buttocks, and touched her already wet core. He began to rub her there, his fingers echoing the rhythm of hers, her wetness mirroring his, his gasps of pleasure echoing her own.

He shoved down her hose and pulled off her boots so that she was bared to him below the waist. He reversed his hand so that he worked her from the front. His fingers circled and aroused the tight bud at the center of her need, until she was mindless with want.

“Please…” She moaned as he slid a finger inside her and moved it back and forth, taking her to a whole new level of urgency. Her hand froze on his cock as she used all her concentration to absorb the sensations he aroused in her. He kissed her and she took each slow thrust of his tongue and gloried in it.

She made herself pull away and meet his gaze.“I want
you
, Christopher Ellis, for yourself, and for myself.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, his blue eyes narrowed, and settled his hands around her waist. “And I want you, Rosalind Llewellyn, without the aid of any love potion.”

He lifted her over him, and helped her guide the thick crown of his cock inside her. She gasped as he slowly filled her and she sank down onto his full length.

“Do I please you, my lady?”

He was still watching her, his teeth settling into his bottom lip as if the feel of her pained him.

“Your sword is indeed mighty, my lord.”

“And your sheath fits it to perfection.” His gaze fell to where they were joined.“Perhaps you should ride me and test my stamina and steel.” He took her hands and anchored them on his shoulders. “Go ahead, my lady. I promise I won’t fail you.”

Rosalind rose onto her knees and then sank back down again, felt him shudder as she slid over his hardened flesh. He caught her hips in his hands and helped her find the rhythm she needed, his fingers biting into her skin as she rode him and used him for her pleasure. She forgot everything but the taste of his mouth, the ache of need, and the building, frantic urge to bind him to her, to make him lose control and give her what she demanded.

He whispered into her mouth, “Give me your thoughts.”

At first, she struggled to open herself in yet another way to him, but he was there, waiting for her, his mind as chaotic as hers, his desires just as potent. She saw herself as he saw her, their mouths fused, tongues entwined, her body molded to his and cradling his aching, thrusting prick. His desperate need blended with hers, until she could no longer tell where his thoughts ended and hers began. She let him feed her rising passion and her frantic need for culmination. He reached between them and plucked at her throbbing bud and pleasure overwhelmed and consumed her like a raging fire.

Despite the conflagration that burned equally brightly in his mind, he managed to lift her off him before he came, his seed hot and wet on her belly as he shook and groaned under her. She slumped over his chest, as weak as a newborn, and just as defenseless. If the Vampire appeared now, she would be unable to shield herself.

Christopher’s right hand slid off her hip and came to rest on the floor. She noticed his dagger lay an inch from his fingers, wondered if he was any more capable of defending them than she would’ve been. She didn’t want to move and face the dawn, didn’t want to have to walk away from him again. She swallowed hard.

He stroked her cheek. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She struggled to sit upright. It felt as if she were tearing herself in half when she pulled out of his arms.“You were right, Christopher. This was a mistake.”

Christopher felt her words like a blow. But that was no matter; he was a master dissembler, had been all his life. “I apologize, my lady. I’d hoped it would be somewhat longer before you realized that.” With unsteady hands, he attempted to tidy his clothes, cursed at the ripped points, and hoped his hose would stay up until he could escape this hellhole and put on a new pair.

She scrambled off his lap, her cheek reddened either from embarrassment or from the caress of his beard. Wisps of her hair had escaped her braid to curl around her heart-shaped face. He wished he’d undone her braid and allowed her glorious hair to cloak them.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

She fumbled to put on her hose and boots, then finally stopped fussing and focused her gaze on his. “I
meant
it will be even harder to forget you now.”

Her softly spoken words eased past his defenses and completely unmanned him. What could he say? Even if he agreed with her, it made no difference. They were both far too strong-willed to give up their chosen paths, and betraying their ancient names was out of the question.

“I should have resisted you.”

She half smiled at him then. “I shouldn’t have insisted.”

“I’m older than you are. I’m supposed to know better.” He shoved a hand through his disordered hair. “I also know how powerful the bond of sex can be. Why do you think my mother left my father for a Vampire? Once they formed their blood bond, she cared nothing for my father.”

“Why don’t you hate the Vampires?”

He made a helpless gesture. “Because as a child, I often thought I would have been better off if my mother had taken me with her. Perhaps I imagined that by joining the struggle I could protect them all, and that maybe my mother would hear of it and be proud of me…” He paused. “It seems that whatever they are, or whatever I am, I simply cannot bear for my mother and her kind to be hunted.”

Rosalind let out her breath. “I think I would feel the same. Even though you aren’t a Vampire, you are tied to them despite yourself.”

He forced himself to keep looking at her. “Yet I’ve formed a Vampire-like bond with you.”

She frowned. “Does that frighten you?”

“Yes, and it should frighten you.”

Her smile was hesitant. “I am not worried that you’ll murder me, if that is what you are thinking.”

“I am not concerned that I’ll want to hurt you. It’s that I don’t know how I’ll react to seeing anyone else touch you. And that includes Rhys.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

Her quiet confidence was both shocking and humbling, and somehow only served to increase his anger and frustration. She thought she was so knowledgeable, this Vampire hunter, but she could not understand as he did the power of the Vampire bond, the way it could compel someone to hurt and destroy. “How do you know that, when I’m not sure of it myself?”

“Because I know you.” She leaned forward and touched his forehead. “Here.”

He closed his eyes at her gentle caress and wanted to drag her back into his arms. He knew it would be a mistake and yet he still wanted it desperately.

“We should go back and try the chapel exit again.”

She sighed as if he had disappointed her, and moved away. He watched her pick up the candle and light a new one. She gave him one last long look over her shoulder before she stalked toward the exit. What did she expect him to do? Rearrange the entire order of the universe simply to accommodate their desires? And even then she wouldn’t thank him for it, would hate him for changing her.

And so he would hurt her.

He had no choice.

Chapter 18

R
osalind walked ahead of Christopher along the tunnel leading back to the chapel. Her muscles felt sore, aching as she stretched her legs. She had tried to make him acknowledge the link between them, but she’d only managed to stir his fears and remind him of all the reasons why they were
not
meant to be together.

Reasons that were true, and thus very hard to ignore in the cold light of morning. Rosalind sighed and her breath frosted in front of her nose. After they killed the Vampire, they would be leaving court. She would have other battles to fight and so would he.

A thought occurred to her and she turned her head. “Christopher? Is your mother still living?”

“As far as I know. If you consider a Vampire to be alive.”

He sounded guarded again, his tone faintly selfmocking as though he refused to acknowledge the pain her question must cause him. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you said that the rogue Vampire spoke with a Spanish accent.”

He stopped. “I think I’d know if it was my
mother.
”

“You’ve never met her. How would you know?”

He started walking again and almost knocked her into the wall when he pushed past her. “It isn’t my mother. This Vampire sounded very old—
ancient
.”

Rosalind could not disagree, for she had had the same impression. “What about your other relatives in Aragon?”

“What about them?”

She followed after him, pitching her voice as quietly as she could. “Mayhap, because of your unusual birth, you have the ability to communicate with
all
the Vampires who share your mother’s blood.” He’d reached the bottom of the stairwell and was staring upward as if she didn’t exist.“Christopher, is it possible that your mother turned other members of your family?”

“Of course it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of it.”

Rosalind frowned at his abrupt tone. “Or perhaps it is even more complicated than that. The Vampire who turned your mother— his blood may have entered you as well. Was he from Aragon?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, don’t you think you should find out? If we can trace your Vampire bloodlines, we might find the name of the female who threatens our king and queen.”

Abruptly, Christopher stopped and dragged her back into the shadows.There was a grating sound from above. A moment later, a familiar bird whistle echoed down the stairwell. Rosalind clutched at Christopher’s arm.

“It’s Rhys!”

She stepped forward and ran up the stairs, found herself being lifted out of the hole and hugged tightly in Rhys’s arms.

“Thank God you are safe,” Rhys murmured. “I lost you in the tunnels and I couldn’t get back because of the Vampires.”

She allowed him to hold her, enjoying his soft, familiar Welsh accent and hard strength. He smelled like home. She fought back a wave of emotion and opened her eyes to see Christopher watching her over Rhys’s shoulder. There was no warmth in his gaze, and more than a hint of possession. Had she been wrong to assume he wouldn’t harm Rhys? Was it possible that his Vampire blood could defy and supersede his humanity? That he’d inherited enough Vampire instincts to protect his bond with her at any cost?

She disengaged herself from Rhys’s arms and checked him for injuries. Apart from a bruise on his cheekbone, he looked unscathed. She stepped back as he turned to Christopher and held out his hand.

“Thank you for keeping her safe, sir.”

Christopher took his hand and shook it. “I hardly did that. The lady is more than capable of looking after herself. You have trained her well.”

Rhys smiled. “That is the truth.” He glanced back at the heavy carved oak stool that had been placed over the entrance to the secret stairwell. His expression hardened. “Let’s get this back to its proper place, and then we can discuss who got through a locked door and put it there.”

Rosalind touched his sleeve. “I am too weary to talk now. May I meet up with you later?”

Rhys frowned. “Are you not well?”

She summoned a reassuring smile. “I just need to rest.”

Christopher nodded at her and then at Rhys. “I can tell you everything you need to know, Rhys. Let Rosalind take her rest. If you don’t mind sharing it twice, you can tell her your own tale when she returns.”

Rhys stared hard at Rosalind and then sighed. “All right, my lady. You do look rather tired. I’ll see you later.”

Rosalind walked away from them before Rhys could question her any more closely. When she opened the outer door of the chapel, she was surprised to see that it wasn’t even fully light yet. The merest hint of the dawn hovered over the hills to the east. There were very few folks about, and she was glad to get back to her bed without causing comment or suspicion.

She locked her door, took off her boy’s clothing, and washed quickly before falling into bed. She would sleep until the light through her window woke her, and then she would seek out Elias Warner. If anyone knew about Christopher’s Vampire kin, it would be Elias.

With a groan, Rosalind flipped onto her front and buried her face in the bedding. If she couldn’t have Christopher, and she already knew in her heart that it was impossible, she had to get away from him.The worst way to heal a wound was to constantly poke and prod at it.

A clean break was always the best. Rhys had told her that. He’d also said that mortal wounds hurt less than superficial ones, which might account for her current state of numbness. Rosalind wiped a tear from her cheek. She had to kill the Vampire so she could go home. So this would all be over.

She curled up into a ball and imagined Christopher smiling at her as their bodies moved together in perfect harmony. He wouldn’t appreciate her going behind his back and consulting with Elias, but there was nothing else she could do. She needed to end this— not only for her sake, but for his.