Dark Celebration (33 page)

"Look at me,
querida
. Keep looking at me," he commanded.

She always loved that about him. He wanted her to know who possessed her—who loved her—who drove her out of her mind with pleasure. And she loved to look at him, to see his fierce hunger, his stark desire for her, the lines of lust etched deep, the burn in his eyes as he took her.

His finger sank deep, drew out creamy honey. "I love how you get so wet for me. You're always so tight and hot and wet." He licked his finger with a slow seductive stroke of his tongue, never taking his gaze from hers, and returned to burrow his fingers deeper in her feminine channel.

The horse stopped moving, simply remaining still while Rafael pushed his fingers deeper, filling her so that she gasped with pleasure. He stroked her over and over, teasing the tight folds, caressing the inner knot of nerve endings until she was gasping, crying out for release, but then the wicked fingers retreated. He caught her in his arms and slid off the horse. Setting her feet on the ground, his arm locking her to him, he talked softly to the animal and then sent it on its way. They watched the horse gallop back up toward the hills.

Colby blinked and looked around her, still dazed and still pulsing with a terrible hunger. She wanted him so much, she was afraid she couldn't take a step. Rafael simply swept her into his arms and moved with the blurring speed of his kind through the house to their underground chamber.

Heart pounding when he set her free, Colby looked around at the room designed not only for sleeping, but for playing. She stood in the middle of the room dressed only in the coat, the edges gaping open to reveal her full breasts and the red curls at the junction of her legs. She was so damp, so hot. So in need. She could barely breathe with her need.

"Come here,
pequeña
. I have waited too long for your body." He held out his hand to her.

She always felt so mesmerized by him, so willing to do whatever he asked of her. She loved the feel of his hands on her far too much. "I think I'm obsessed with you." She put her hand in his and he jerked her to him, spinning her around, pushing her back against the wall and trapping her between his body and the hard surface.

"It is good for you to be obsessed." His fingers trailed down her face, across her neck to her throat. The pads of his fingers teased her bare skin, sending little flames dancing through her body. Without warning, he yanked the coat from her body, exposing the soft creamy flesh beneath. "You always wear too many clothes."

Her heart began to pound in response to his intensity. He could always do that to her, take away her balance when it came to their sexual encounters. "Would you like me to go naked in front of all of our company?"

He growled low in his throat, bared his teeth, then leaned forward and gently bit down on her nipple, dragging his teeth back and forth until she moaned. "If I had my way, I would choose a time in history when I could simply lock you up, keep you safe and to myself, never share you." He pinned her wrists together above her head. "I would keep you in shackles, chained to my bed, completely naked waiting for me, always wanting me."

His hands cupped her breasts and lifted them as he bent his head to feast. His mouth was already hot, his tongue lapping wickedly, his teeth scraping and teasing, his mouth suckling strongly. Most of the time, he took great care to pay attention to every nuance of her mind, ensuring everything he did was exactly the way she liked, but sometimes, when his demons and petty jealousies were riding him just a little too hard, he allowed himself the freedom of taking her body the way he wanted. Fast and hard and rough.

Excitement always coursed through her mind—and maybe a little fear. He would never hurt her, but he always demanded submission—he always pushed her sexually. He was greedy for her. He wanted to know she would love him no matter what, that she would give him everything, that she would hold nothing back. But in the end, nothing mattered to him so much as her pleasure and he always—always—gave that to her tenfold.

Rafael dropped to his knees, hands pushing her thighs apart and dragging her hips forward so his mouth could devour her. His tongue stabbed deep, drew out cream, and he began licking and sucking while her hips bucked against his mouth and her hands tangled in his hair. She screamed as the first wave rushed over her. The almost desperate sounds he made drove her right over the edge. Spasm after spasm rocked her.

He tumbled her to the bed, following her down, skin to skin, thrusting his knee between her thighs to keep her open to him. He surged forward with one hard stroke, burying himself deep, driving through the soft velvet folds until he hit her womb. He tilted her hips, pushing deeper, forcing her to take all of him. He swore softly as her body, so tight and hot, grasped his, squeezing and milking and sending fire racing down his spine. Lightning sizzled in his bloodstream and whipped through his body. He began to piston, driving with his hips, sinking deep into the refuge of her body, reveling in the way her muscles tightened like a fist, holding him to her.

He thrust hard, over and over, ignoring her helpless pleas as he took her higher and higher, building the pleasure until she was whimpering for release, pleading with him to take her over the edge. She began to throw her head back and forth, struggling against the terrible sexual tension, but he held her still, plunging his body into hers, taking them both to a fever pitch of need. Then she was screaming, as her body shattered around his, as jet after jet of heat filled her and her womb convulsed with shocking pleasure. It spread through her like a tornado, taking her body by surprise, ripping through her vaginal walls, down her thighs and up into her stomach.

She lay gasping for breath, staring up at the man she loved above all else in the world—the man who loved and accepted her for who she was. Bloodlines or not, Rafael loved her and that was enough for her. She could feel confident in herself no matter what because he loved her unconditionally.

Chapter 13

The wind began to pick up in strength, blowing snow around even as more began to fall in earnest. Mikhail hesitated just outside the large house. Traian Trigovise had designed and built the house for, not only his lifemate Joie, but to share with her brother Jubal and sister Gabrielle. Now that the vampire who had taken Traian's blood was dead, Traian felt he could once more live in the company of other Carpathians without endangering them all.

You re being such a chicken
, Raven teased.

Traian's in-laws are visiting. And Gabrielle has risen. There are going to be questions I would rather not have to answer at this time.

Because she is in love with Gary Jansen.

Not exactly
. Mikhail knew he was hedging. He didn't want Gabrielle and Gary to be in love. As humans it was perfectly fine, but now that Gabrielle had been converted, he knew there would be tremendous problems. And with Gabrielle's parents there to celebrate Christmas, there would be more questions than normal.
I think I will skip this visit
.

Mikhail Dubrinsky! You knock on that door. As the prince, it is your duty to welcome Joie's parents. And Gabrielle needs your support as well.

My duties as prince seem to be getting larger and more complicated as time goes on. Maybe I should pass this duty along to my second in command.

Raven laughed softly.
Don't you dare
.

Mikhail heaved a tortured sigh and knocked on the door. It swung open immediately and a woman with bright eyes and a ready smile greeted him.

"Please come in. I'm Marissa Sanders, Joie, Jubal and Gabrielle's mother."

"Mikhail Dubrinsky." He identified himself, and sent Raven the image of him throttling her.
I'd rather face a vampire than a mother-in-law
. Her answering laughter wasn't in the least sympathetic.
I am going to have to explain to you the finer points of lifemates. You seem to be missing them
.

"Oh! The prince." Mrs. Sanders stepped back to wave him inside. "Lovely to meet you. I have so many questions."

He bowed slightly. "I will try to answer what I can for you."

She stopped in the hall so abruptly he nearly ran into her. "Prince of what? Are you in exile? Everyone just refers to you as the prince, but they never say of which country. I imagine there are quite a few princes thrown out on their royal…" She brought herself up short, and swung back to continue walking down the hall.

Mikhail nearly groaned out loud, but managed to suppress it.
Traian
! He issued the summons sharply, and in that moment he didn't give a damn whether the entire population of Carpathians heard the panic in his voice or not. He was not answering this woman's questions.

She showed him into the large living room, and immediately took the chair opposite his and leaned forward eagerly. "I've just come from Sara's. You'll be happy to know the seamstresses are on track."

"Seamstresses?" he echoed faintly.
What seamstresses, Raven
?

I have no idea. Ask her.

Mikhail nodded, trying to look wise. "That is good, Mrs. Sanders. Uh—er—which seamstresses would that be?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "You obviously dropped the ball on that one. Good thing I was here to pick it up. The children needed costumes for the pageant."

"Costumes?" He seemed to be repeating her words, but he couldn't help it. He ran a finger around the neckline of his shirt.
Traian, get in here before I do something like send an earthquake rippling through this house
.

"Did you expect to simply produce the outfits out of thin air?"

"I suppose I was, yes."

Mikhail
! Raven's voice reprimanded him sharply before he could speak.
Don't you dare say another word and I mean it. That poor woman has two daughters who are now Carpathian. She deserves a little respect
.

Mikhail closed his eyes briefly. Of course she deserved respect, but he shouldn't have to deal with her.
Where is my second in command? It's your job to protect me at all times and distance me from these unpleasant tasks
.

Gregori gave a derisive snort.
I think you are capable of handling one little woman. I have my hands full at the moment with your daughter
.

Mikhail struggled between self-preservation and prank, and the prank won. He was not going to pull out his son-in-law card. He could handle this woman no matter what she threw at him. It would be well worth it to see Gregori prancing around in a Santa Claus outfit.

"Just like a man. You order a huge celebration and then expect it all to get done on its own." Mrs. Sanders crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him with a stern eye. "Just what has been going on with my daughter Gabrielle? Joie and Traian said she was with you. I certainly hope you aren't the kind of prince who believes in harems because, and let's get this straight…" She leaned forward to look him in the eye, bent on intimidating him. "I'm not the mother to stand for it."

Mikhail choked. Coughed.
Traian! I'm commanding you to get into this room immediately
.