Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (34 page)

When he opened his eyes, she’d already gone inside. He found her sitting on his bed. The woman was going to kill him.

He took a deep breath. “Krys, you don’t know what this means in my world. If we—”

“We’re mated. It’s a long-term deal. I know.” She crossed her arms and gave him a steady look. “I told you that’s what I want. Are you telling me you don’t?”

He could reach her in three steps, undress her in two, be inside her in under a minute. “Of course I do.” He gritted his teeth. “I just want to make sure you understand what it means.”

“So tell me.”

“We become a part of each other. I’ll always know where you are. If I’m hurt, I can draw strength from you. Your life span will be longer—”

“Aidan, shut up.”

He blinked at her, caught off guard. Had she changed her mind?

“I’m tired of talking.” She stood, closed the gap between them, hooked two fingers in the top of his jeans, pulled him to her. His mind started to protest, then shut down on him altogether.

“I’m tired of thinking.” She slid both hands up his chest and rested them on his collarbone, easing him away from the door. Her hand slipped away for a second, flicking the switch on the wall, and all the light fled the room except the soft illumination from the bedside lamp.

“I’m tired of being scared.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward the bed.

He took two steps before he looked down, saw the band on his wrist, and froze.

She’d noticed the bracelet before, but thought it was just jewelry. Should have realized that a seventeenth-century Irish farmer wouldn’t be a “just jewelry” kind of guy. Now he pulled away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it. Were all vampire males this complicated?

She sat beside him and took his hand in hers, studying the simple gold bangle. There were figures etched into it, in a language she didn’t recognize. “What does it say?”

He flexed his hand. “Abigail, in Gaelic. I put it on a long, long time ago, after my wife died. To remind myself of what I am and what I can’t ever be again.”

Krys knew he’d been married, and that he carried scars from whatever had happened. She’d thought his hesitation with her was a commitment phobia, that he thought a mate would be a distraction. Instead she’d been competing with the past.

“Tell me about Abby. You were married before you were turned, right?”

He fingered the band. “Yes. I held the family farm because Owen, as the eldest, hadn’t wanted it. We had a son, Cavan, who’d just turned five when I left to fight. Owen and I traveled for a while after we’d been turned, but then I was a selfish bastard and decided to go home. I thought we could still have some kind of a life. But Abby was afraid of me. She saw me as the monster I was. Still am.”

Krys bit her tongue. She could hear the rest of the story later. Right now she either had to exorcise Abby or walk away from Aidan. And she didn’t want to walk away.

She gently grasped the bracelet and tried to slide it off his hand. Finally, after a few tugs, he compressed his palm enough for her to remove it. She held it in front of him. “Here are some facts. You’re not a monster. You could be, but you’re not.”

His focus remained fixed on the bracelet in her right hand, so she reached up with her left and turned his face toward hers. “Look at me, Aidan. I am not afraid of you. You can try all you want, but you can’t scare me off.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, OK? You. Now. Just like you are.”

She caught her breath as a tear slipped down his cheek. He opened his mouth to talk but couldn’t, and he turned his face away. She laid the bracelet on the nightstand and slipped her arms around his shoulders.
All that strength camouflaging such a wounded heart.
He’d told her once that vampires couldn’t cry. He’d been wrong.

She felt him bury his face in her hair, and gripped him harder, her heart full and aching at the same time. How long they sat that way she wasn’t sure, but finally he pulled away, reaching across her to pick up the bracelet. He looked at it for
a moment before walking to his desk and taking a wooden box from a bottom drawer. He fumbled with the latch and finally got it open, laying the bracelet inside and snapping the box shut again.

He put the box away, closed the drawer, and stared at it a moment before turning to face her with an expression she couldn’t interpret.

She smiled at him and was relieved when he smiled back. She stood up and began pushing up the sleeve of her sweater. “OK then, you still need to feed. We’ll take the rest slowly if it’s what you decide you want.” She edged past him toward the sofa, figuring he’d rather go to a more neutral spot. He grasped her arm as she passed. “That’s how I feed from a fam, not from a mate. And I decided a long time ago—I was just too thickheaded to realize it.” His voice was soft, and when she looked up at him, his eyes had grown pale with need. For her. Heat flashed across her body, and he knew it. His nostrils flared as he leaned over to kiss her, slipping his hands over her backside and pulling her against him.

She thought about stopping him, asking him if he was sure. But they’d talked enough. She didn’t want him to think with anything except his hands and his mouth and the hard core of him that was pressing against her.

His fingers caught the hem of her sweater and he eased it over her head. She reached up to unhook her bra, but his hands covered hers. “Mine.” He lowered the straps, slowly, following the line of exposed skin on her shoulders before unhooking the clasp and letting it drop to the floor between them.

Krys held her breath as he pulled her against him and recaptured her lips, his hand working at the button of her jeans and then sliding them down her hips. She stepped out of them
and returned to splay her hands across his broad chest, its planes and ridges moving under her touch.

She dropped her head to slide her lips across the smooth muscles of his pecs and take a hard nipple between her teeth, biting down with a slight pressure at his sharp intake of breath. Good, he liked that. She paused over a scar on his stomach.

“What happened here?” she murmured, running her tongue along the lightened skin.

His breathing was jagged. “I was learning to use a scythe, when I was fifteen,” he said. “Ah, holy hell.”

His words became jumbled as she unbuttoned his jeans and slipped a hand inside to cup him while her tongue traced the indentation over his hip bone. She thought that dimple of skin was the sexiest part of a man, and took care to let him know she appreciated it.

Aidan growled and leaned over, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. He laid her on the mattress and looked at her with utter possessiveness as he ran his hands down her sides, hooked her panties and pulled them off with a flick that sent them flying.

“I’ll never find my clothes again.” She laughed as he ripped off all she had left—her socks—and threw them over his shoulder with a grin.

“Good. I like you this way.”

He skimmed off his jeans, all toned muscle and slim hips, his erection heavy and thick. Suddenly she felt self-conscious. She was so plain—how could he want her? She reached over to turn off the lamp.

“No you don’t. You’re beautiful, and I want to see you.” He sat beside her and pulled her hand away from the lamp, bringing it to rest on him. “Feel what you do to me.”

She stroked him, silk over iron, and watched his face as he threw his head back with a groan. She saw his fangs and her heart sped up. He was so used to playing human that it was easy to forget that he wasn’t.

As if he’d heard her, Aidan growled and rolled her onto her back, sliding his body atop hers and burying his face against her neck. “I love the feel of you,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. She gasped as his hand slid down to caress the ache between her legs. His fingers plunged and scissored and his mouth slowly moved from her neck to her breast, causing her to arch underneath him.

She grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him back within kissing range, nibbling along the edge of his jaw until she reached his lips. His big hand between her legs was making her crazy, and she writhed under his touch. “You have some really talented fingers but I want you inside me,” she said, gasping for breath. “Please.”

He laughed, dark and wicked, the sound of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Then he disappeared and she struggled up on her elbows to find him grinning at her from between her thighs. Oh no, he wouldn’t...

A quick swipe of his tongue sent her over the top. “You... oh...” She closed her eyes and lost the ability to form words as he used his hands to spread her legs farther and poise himself at her entrance.

“Krys, keep looking at me.” His voice was resonant and she opened her eyes, looking into his as he hovered above her then began entering her slowly, the thick heat of him stretching her, pushing deeper, his eyes locked on hers.

His hips surged and he stilled, deep inside her. “
Is tú mo maité
,” he whispered. “
Tá tú mianach
. You are my mate. You are mine. Is this true?”

Hot tears blurred her vision but she didn’t take her gaze from his. She’d spent her whole life trying to not belong to one man, and now she wanted nothing more than to belong to this one. “I am your mate,” she answered. “I am yours.”

He smiled and kissed her as he began to move in long, slow strokes that sent sparks through every nerve ending. Those first gentle strokes became harder, faster—a pounding rhythm that took her breath away and sent her soaring again.

“Don’t come yet,” he said, his voice rough from the exertion of trying to slow his own rhythm. He fumbled for something on the bedside table, a small knife whose blade he drew in a small cut beneath his collarbone. The blood welled up and dripped onto her shoulder as he began to move again, resuming a frantic rhythm that brought her back to the edge.

She felt her muscles gathering energy, the white-hot tension coiling inside her, and as she went over, she latched onto the wound, taking his sweet, hot lifeblood into her. Her orgasm tightened around him, and she felt his bite on the side of her neck as his body stiffened and he jerked inside her.

The sound of their breathing filled the room as Aidan collapsed on top of her, holding her tight. “You are my mate.”

Krys couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “I am.”

Krys lay with her back to Aidan as he kissed her shoulder. He nestled against her, tracing his fingers across the small puncture wounds beneath her ear that had almost healed. That would be the third set. Or was it the fourth? He felt at peace—an emotion he wasn’t well acquainted with. He felt really, really good for a change.

He growled when his cell phone rang on the nightstand. He wasn’t ready for reality yet, but Krys grabbed it and handed it to him.

“Bad timing,” he snapped into the phone.

“Where the hell are you?” Mirren snapped back at him. “We’re sitting in your living room waiting to talk about what our people found today and you up and disappear on us. Gave me a bloody heart attack, already.”

“You’re a vampire,” Aidan said. “You can’t have a heart attack.”

Krys stifled a snort in her pillow.

“Who was that? What is
wrong
with you?”

“Never mind. I’m on my way.” Aidan clicked the phone shut and kissed Krys until she quit laughing.

“I don’t have time for a shower right now, but you’re welcome to stay. Or are you ready for your debut?” He crawled out of bed and jerked on a clean pair of jeans, then began digging in the dresser for a sweater.

She began dressing as well, coming up with everything but one sock. “I’m afraid to ask, but what do you mean by debut?”

He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back with one of the elastic bands that seemed to be scattered over every surface. “Well, put it this way. I can either go upstairs and talk to my lieutenants, who are all in my living room—and they’ll know you’re down here because your scent is all over me. Or you can go up with me and admit you distracted me enough to forget I had a meeting about our hunt, which only impacts the whole future of the town.”

Krys hid her face in her hands. “Oh my God. Isn’t there a third choice, like dying of humiliation?”