Diana's Hound: Bloodhounds, Book 4 (10 page)

The muscles in his arms corded, restraint trembling through every inch of him. “Think the words. Let me hear them in your mind.”

Her mind stuttered over a dozen false starts. He was beautiful when he smiled, but he didn’t do it enough. Delicious when he wrapped himself in his control, and breathtaking when he finally let go.

Mine.

“Such a bloodhound,” he whispered, the rasping words curling around her. “So possessive.”

And he liked it. She scratched her fingernails over his hip and sucked him deeper. Harder. His hips pushed up, and he groaned and clutched at the back of her head, all that careful control dissolving. “
Diana.
”

Yes.
She wanted to raise her head, wrap her hand around his wet length and stroke him until he spilled on her breasts, her face. Earthy and visceral, a claim as blatant as the now-healed marks of his teeth.

He shuddered as the thoughts poured over him. “Do it.”

Diana pulled away and barely managed to whisper his name before he tensed beneath her and came with her name on his lips, his entire body shaking with the force of his release.

His seed, hot and musky, splashed on her chest as she used her hand to coax him through his pleasure. “Such a bloodhound,” she murmured, echoing his words. “So possessive.”

He growled and half-rose, pulling her to meet him with his hands tangled in her hair. He kissed her once, roughly, and pulled back. “I’ve never felt the bloodhound parts of me as strongly as I do now. You bring out something decidedly feral in me.”

“I know the feeling.” More than he could understand, perhaps ever.

A lazy smile curved his lips as he studied her breasts. “I suppose a bath would be the civilized thing to offer.”

“Civilized, yes. Not that you seem anything but smug at the moment.”

He laughed and touched her collarbone, slid his fingertip down to her nipple. “I feel young again, that’s how I feel. Not like an old man in a young man’s body. Good.”

It pained her that he ever felt trapped like that, in a body that didn’t belong to him. She knew what
that
was like too. “No regrets?”

“No regrets.” He kissed her softly this time. “That was the first time I’ve taken blood without fighting it, the pleasure or my own hunger. It defies science and reason that my intent could make such a drastic difference, but I feel like an entirely different man. Whole, finally. Sated.”

Fighting. She’d done her share during the call of the moons, both full and new. “Struggling always makes it worse somehow. I’m glad that you don’t have to do that with me, not all the time.”

“No.” His thumb traced her cheek, smoothing over her skin as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m quite intoxicated by you.”

Intoxicated…and possibly not even in his right mind.

Now
there
was a sobering thought. Diana kissed him back and pulled away before he could sense her doing the same mentally. Emotionally. “The bath. We have a big night ahead of us.”

“Ah, yes. Jonah Knight’s debauchery.” He chuckled and reclined on the bed. “One thing hasn’t changed, Diana. I’ll give a poor impression of a man desperate to part with you. We must hope I can do a better one of a man who has no choice.”

At least they wouldn’t be vibrating with sexual tension. “We’ll be fine.”

“We will, we will indeed….” His voice trailed off in another sleepy laugh as his eyes drifted shut.

Asleep. After a moment, Diana quelled a disbelieving laugh and escaped to the washroom.

She started the bath and leaned her head against the wall, her eyes closed. She was unaccustomed to uncertainty. She’d fought long and hard to leave that in the past, and yet here was Nate, so hesitant to touch her that sure footing of any kind was impossible to find.

It had caught her off guard, too, the relentless tug of attraction between them. It didn’t fit with her plans, or why she’d come to Iron Creek in the first place. She was there to learn, not find herself inextricably ensnared by a man, no matter how attractive.

But she wasn’t sure fighting it would change a damn thing. She’d tried to let familiarity breed contempt, relying on proximity to cure her of her ill-advised infatuation, but all it had done was intensify her fascination—the lure of the forbidden, perhaps. He seemed to suffer from plenty of that himself.

He wanted her, all right, and all the while wished he didn’t. Perhaps her blood really had left him drunk and reeling, taking yet another step closer to her, a step he would regret.

Chapter Six

Sleep, it turned out, restored life to even a half-vampire, half-bloodhound abomination.

Sleep—or Diana’s blood.

Nate had never been less certain of what, exactly, he was and had never cared so little about the possible answers. He felt young, vigorous and
alive
, truly at home in his own skin for the first time since he’d been spirited away to the Deadlands as an old man.

The reflection staring back at him from the polished full-length mirror in their suite’s dressing room belonged to a man he’d never been. Oh, the face was his—square jawed and capable of a cold sort of handsomeness—but missing were so many tokens of an arrogant, preoccupied scholar. No spectacles sliding down his nose, no furrow etched between his brows, no slouched shoulders or painful back, courtesy of the countless nights spent hunched over a workroom table, squinting at notes.

He looked like the best version of himself he could have imagined, hale and healthy, with only the scholar’s pallor remaining. That, he had no doubt, was a good thing—as long as he wanted to pass for a vampire.

“Are you almost ready?” he asked Diana, lifting his voice enough to be heard through the closed door.

“Nearly,” she called back. “I need help with my dress.” She emerged from the washroom, clad in yards of midnight-blue silk that she clutched to her chest. “The buttons.”

He fought to swallow as he stared at the vast expanse of bare skin. “Buttons. Uh, yes. They’re on the back?”

“Of course.” She turned but glanced at him over her shoulder. “I wish I could say the dress looks less scandalous fully fastened, but it would be a lie.”

An unfamiliar sort of possessiveness had awoken inside him, one tangled up with the parts of him that felt like a bloodhound. He disliked the idea of men being able to gaze upon her with an intensity that had previously been reserved for imminent bloodshed.

His fingers trembled as he set them on the delicate buttons. “This can’t be one of the dresses you owned.”

She looked up into the ornate mirror above the dresser and met his gaze. “It was, actually. A singer had brought it to me for some alterations, but she never came back to pick it up.”

“Fortuitous.” He couldn’t help but let his knuckles brush her spine as he worked his way up her back. She wasn’t his to caress, but it would be so easy to tell himself she was for the night. That their masquerade would only be strengthened by proprietary glances and possessive touches.

Excuses. Weak excuses for a weak man.

“Nate?”

He lifted his gaze to hers in the mirror. “Yes?”

For a moment, she stared at him, troubled. Then she flashed him a reassuring smile. “It will turn out all right. You’ll see.”

Her thoughts no longer echoed in his mind, though he had the oddest sensation that they were there, just out of reach, a low murmur on the other side of a closed door. He even thought he might know how to open that door, but doing so when he had the choice—

No. That would be a violation, an unnecessary one. “I’m sure you’re right.”

She turned her attention back to her reflection, arranging her sleeves as he buttoned her dress. “What manner of things should I expect to see tonight?”

He couldn’t stare at her beautiful, young face in the mirror and answer that question honestly, even knowing she could hardly be a blushing innocent. He lowered his attention to the buttons again and frowned. “Any sort of debauchery you can envision, is my best guess. Sharing of blood and sharing of blood-slaves, both as food and in a more carnal fashion. I cannot imagine the lengths to which they will take such things here in the heart of Eternity.”

“And if we’re expected to take part?”

“We won’t.” He put steel behind the words. “If a demonstration of the non-toxic nature of your blood is necessary, I will provide it. But I will
not
be goaded into letting a single vampire lay a finger on you.”

The troubled look had returned. “Even if it exposes you to scrutiny and suspicion?”

That unfamiliar rage was back. Nate wanted to snarl like Wilder at his worst and announce he’d break their fingers if they so much as breathed in Diana’s direction. No wonder the bloodhounds were such an intolerable lot; judging by the temper stirring in his gut, they could hardly help it.

But he could. He
would
, no matter how high the cost, but he wondered now if Diana suffered under the same crushing press of instinct. “Will you have a hostile reaction to vampires straying too close to me?”

“If they try to hurt you—” A growl choked the words, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m dealing with similar inclinations.”

“Then we should tread carefully tonight,” she murmured.

“We will.” He fastened the final button and smoothed the fabric. “This fits you perfectly. Either the dancer was your twin, or you’re cleverer with a needle than I am with a pen.”

“She was a bit shorter, I believe.” Diana tugged at the bodice, but her nipples still peeked over its scandalously low edge.

He’d thought that had been the entire point, which made him a confirmed lecher. “There’s something else we should discuss, but I don’t know if we should do it now or later.”

She gave up on the embroidered fabric barely covering her breasts and turned to him. “About what happened earlier?”

“Not precisely.” He tilted her chin up with a soft sigh. “I’m worried about the new moon, Diana. If I’m already loath to let anyone else touch you, I won’t be able to tolerate you passing those days with a stranger.”

“The…” Her gaze dropped to his mouth as her fingers ghosted over the pale line of her throat—exactly where he’d bitten her. “Nate, I thought you understood. I don’t want a stranger.”

He’d hoped. He’d dreaded, doubted. He’d done a dozen things, a hundred, every damn thing but understand how a creature this beautiful could look at him in desire. Tonight was the first time he’d felt whole enough to be worthy of her regard. “I only need it to be clear between us. We’re on such dangerous ground now that misunderstandings and reckless assumptions could mean a flaw in our story. It could get one or both of us killed.”

She cupped his face and nodded, then brushed a soft kiss over his lips. “If it’s something you can do, something you want…I’d rather have you with me during the new moon.”

The invitation warmed him from head to toe, as did her kiss. Somehow he had to bring her downstairs and play master to her blood-bound servant and pretend he could part with her.

In actuality, he’d have to part with her sooner or later. But he was too selfish to deny himself this. “Yes.”

“I’m glad,” she murmured, her gaze on his mouth. “We can easily excuse ourselves for those days. One last new moon before you’re to sell your pet?”

“No one would begrudge me that indulgence.” How easy it was to rationalize. How dangerous. The first step on a slope so slippery he’d likely never find the bottom, only a glorious free fall.

“Gambling debts,” she said firmly. “Dice and cards have been the ruin of many a man.”

He gave in to temptation and stroked his finger along her jaw. “A truth that has always baffled me. But then, when I calculate the odds of losing, they’re usually too high.”

“Plenty are willing to take the chance, over and over.”

“Plenty of fools.” And now he’d pretend to be one of them. Not so much of a stretch, after all. The only difference was in the vice of choice.

No, that was an unfitting thought. Whatever Diana was, she shouldn’t be considered a vice, as if
she
was a sinful temptation. He was a sinner for wanting her.

Turning away from such thoughts, he stepped back and offered his arm. “Are you ready?”

“If you are.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “We can do this, Nate.”

“Of course we can.” He put just a bit of his youthful arrogance into the words. “I’m passably intelligent, and you’re clever and wickedly strong.”

“I’ll remember to guard my thoughts.”

He lifted her chin. “No one can hope to stand against us.”

“Not a soul.” She lowered her gaze, her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks. “Do I look appropriately deferential and submissive?”

No. She looked powerful, even with obedience wrapped around her. Something in the set of her shoulders, the stiffness in her spine, maybe even the very air that trembled just shy of her skin. “You look as submissive as anyone will expect a bloodhound to be.”

Diana smiled and opened the door to their suite. “Then I’ll play my part well.”

He could only pray that they both did.

He swept them both from the room and toward the grand staircase. Laughter drifted up already, tickling his sharpened senses. A different sort of sound buzzed just beyond easy range, whispers that skittered across his mind, brushing inside him.