Fated (34 page)

Talen let Cara sleep for several hours after they returned to the ranch. Like a predator on a hunt, he watched her move slowly, purposefully into their comfortable living room as the fading sun cast a mellow pink light across the hard planks of the floor. She had dressed in faded jeans and a pretty white knit tank that hugged her full breasts—the decorative Celtic knots winding along the neckline whispered of feminine secrets and allure. Her unbound hair flaunted oak sparks as the sun danced across porcelain skin. She was so beautiful his chest ached. Yet her stunning blue eyes were determined, her
slim shoulders back, her chin lifted—she looked ready for a good fight. The ache receded as desire clawed with sharp talons through his blood to strike at his groin.

He’d oblige her with the fight.

The touch of his eyes on Cara was more a lash than a caress, and she had to concentrate not to stumble as she skirted the couch to stand at its edge. He stood next to the rumbling fire in the massive stone fireplace, one masculine arm resting negligently on the mantle, his hand swirling golden liquid in a tumbler. He had changed into faded jeans and a deep bronze shirt that had to be silk and turned his eyes to the topaz of a night predator. They fit perfectly in a face stamped with a dangerous display of hardness and hollows. A muscle ticked in his rugged jaw, and the shadow he unintentionally cast from the firelight hinted of breadth and strength.

Fear fought with desire through her veins.

“Where is Janie?” She had looked into the little pink room on her way to the living area to find it empty.

“She’s still at headquarters with Jase.” The underlying reason slid like a whispered threat over her skin.

“Why?” She was stalling, and she knew it.

“We needed privacy.” His golden eyes revealed nothing as he continued to swirl the liquid—ice cubes clanked against the crystal, and the chill tickled down her spine.

She didn’t have a reply as they stared at each other across the wooden coffee table. The large imprint on her hip started to burn.

He broke the silence first. “Franco’s helicopter didn’t make it to his headquarters—I think Dage has Emma now. Jase and Conn are en route to pick them up.”

Relief filled Cara for a moment, even with the tension infusing the room. “Thank God.”

Golden eyes hardened to ancient copper. “Are you well rested?”

“Yes.” Her stomach lurched as she fought to remain calm. She knew him, didn’t she? He wouldn’t hurt her. “I don’t want to fight with you.” The words surprised her—she hadn’t meant to say them.

His raised eyebrow showed his surprise as well. “Don’t you, now?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed in anger, and she fought the urge to stamp her foot. “Of course not.”

He took a sip of the liquid, his eyes both hard and thoughtful over the rim. “I believe I have been less than clear as to the rules governing our marriage.”

“Rules?” Anger wove through her words as her spine straightened one vertebra at a time. How dare he?

“Yes.” His face gave no quarter.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Talen, but if you wanted a mindless, obedient wife, you should have found one during the last century. I’m sure you had your chances.” She welcomed the anger, so much easier to deal with than the fear.

In the way of wild animals from wolves to men, Talen showed his teeth—the beast within him rearing with a vengeance demanding to take. To dominate. He had almost lost her today, and yet here she stood challenging him. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, mate.”

The possessive tone of his voice slid south of Cara’s stomach as an unwanted desire pooled fast and hard between her thighs. “Meaning what?” It came out as a husky whisper.

“Meaning that reality is something you will come to grips with, and you’ll do so now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” he asked silkily as he took another drink of scotch. “I think you do, Cara. I think you do understand that the freedom you’ve enjoyed, the freedom you’ve abused,” his voice hardened on the last, “is one I’ve allowed.”

“Allowed?” She choked on the word as a fine red haze covered her vision. If it were possible for her head to spin around and explode, it would have just happened. Boy, this was one vampire who needed a good lesson in modern relationships.

“You picked the wrong girl to dominate, Dracula.”

His broad hand slapped the glass onto the mantle with a harsh snap as he turned to face her. Desire clawed through him with sharp blades as he took in her flushed face, clenched fists, and the sheer daring it had taken to call him by that ridiculous name. Yet his voice when he spoke was silky, dark. “Have I, mate?” He took a step forward, and his eyes flashed to the hard pebbles of her nipples through the light cotton.

She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her traitorous breasts while her thighs softened even more in response. This was getting out of hand—she needed to bring some reason into the conversation. Even worse, she knew she had been wrong before. It would about kill her, but fairness demanded the truth—she would deal with his idiotic proclamation about rules later.

She shifted her feet. “I’m sorry I went to Wyoming without you.”

At the very least she expected a graceful acknowledgment, even an acceptance of her apology. What she got, however, was an arrogant smile. “Do you think so?”

She blinked in confusion. “Do I think so what?”

“Do you think you’re sorry?”

“I just said I was.”

“No.” The arrogance remained.

“No, what?” Cara asked in exasperation.

“You’re not sorry. Not yet anyway.” His stalking step forward was as graceful as any jungle cat hunting its prey. Spiced pine tickled her nose.

It was either stomp her foot in frustration or take a step backward in retreat. The wooden floor vibrated as she took the first option. “Stop threatening me.”

The harsh caress of his eyes over her aching nipples made her shiver in response. Hard gold lifted to meet her gaze, and
she shivered again. Desire, want, and need all blended through her blood. “That was a statement, not a threat.” Another step closer. Less than a foot of tension-filled air remained between them.

“You’re the one who lied,” she snapped back, remembering suddenly why she had been so angry.

A superior eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t lie.”

“Yes, you did. You married me because some damn high prophet said you had to.” Her temper gathered like a winter storm through her veins.

“Bullshit.”

She gasped and a haze of fury crossed her vision. “I saw the damn letter, Talen.”

“I know that, mate. What I don’t know, what I don’t understand, is why you didn’t ask me about the letter.” His temper rose to match hers. “In fact, I believe I do understand it. You weren’t running from me, Cara. You were running from yourself.” Rage flashed across his face as he remembered the danger she had put herself in. “Do you truly believe that I would let anyone
order
me to mate?”

“Well you did,” she retorted, fighting the urge to retreat. “I saw your return letter.”

“Did you see the dates of either letter?” His voice lowered.

She tilted her chin. Not exactly.

“I didn’t think so. The letters were copies of those sent over a century ago, mate. The originals are in a safe at headquarters.”

“You still agreed.” Her voice trailed off at the end—maybe she should’ve looked at the date.

“I mated you because you’re mine, Cara. And you damn well know it.” At her stubborn silence, a dangerous glint entered his eyes. “And you’re going to admit it, darlin’.”

The claim hung in the tense air between them for several beats. “I’m not going to run,” she murmured, unsure whether she warned herself or the warrior closing in on her.

“Running would prove fruitless,” he agreed, reaching out to run one finger over a cloth-covered nipple.

She bit her lip to keep from moaning and then gasped as he pinched her. “No more holding back, mate,” he issued a quiet warning before soothing her abused flesh with one broad hand. Flesh that was all but begging for more, damn it. She gave a negligent shrug and moved to step back, only to have his other palm grasp her hip and hold her in place. He flexed his hand on her waist and sent fingers of anticipation through her abdomen; she quickly stifled the whimper that wanted loose. The hand on her hip slid around and smacked her backside in retaliation.

“Hey,” she protested, raising both hands to push against his chest. Liquid heat spilled from her, readying her body for him with gleeful abandonment.

“I said no more holding back, Cara.” The hand reached up to tangle in her hair and tug, forcing her eyes to meet his deadly serious ones. “Every cry, every moan, every whimper is mine. You will give them to me, mate.”

“They aren’t yours.” She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about but knew she needed to protest. Though her body was all but begging to get him naked.

He reacted with the speed of a striking cobra. With a twist of his wrist he exposed her neck—and instantly dipped to sink razor sharp teeth into tender flesh. She couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped her this time, and there was no doubt it was a sound of ecstasy and not of pain. As he drank from her with sharp pulls, she wondered why it didn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt? Instead, fire spiraled first to the imprint on her hip and then lower to the apex between her legs. She moved into him with a soft whimper and groaned as he slid one muscled thigh between her legs to press. Hard. Somehow, with another cry, she shattered.

When she came back to earth, she focused on his eyes right above her. With a fierce grin he leaned down and spoke heatedly
against her mouth. “They are mine. As are your blood, your orgasms, and your soul, Cara. And before this night is over, you will beg me to accept them all.”

With a swift motion, he had her off her feet and was striding purposefully toward the bedroom. He stopped and looked down—his face unwavering, his metallic eyes determined. “Tonight you will submit, mate.” He walked inside and kicked the door shut before placing her on her feet.

C
ara let instinct take over as she took several steps back from the determined warrior standing between her and the bedroom door. His face intent, his body tensed for action, he mirrored her steps until her thighs met the bed. She searched around for an escape but could find none. The gentleness of his hands on the base of her T-shirt surprised her, as did the swiftness with which it was tossed over her head. Desire rushed through her; God she wanted this man. He stepped into her and reached for the button on her jeans. Heat enveloped her as the zipper was tugged down before her jeans and thong were pushed to pool at her feet; he even assisted her in lifting first one and then the other knee to free her legs. With a gentle push to her chest, she fell back on the bed.

She sat in a daze as Talen quickly rid himself of his dark shirt and jeans before leaning down and tugging her thick socks off her feet, his eyes hot and intent on hers the entire time. She shivered in the early light as he knelt and softly kissed the arch of one chilled foot.

“You are my mate, Cara,” he kissed up her leg, hips, and belly, his breath heated with desire. “The prophets ordered us three hundred years ago to find a mate”—he continued moving up, placing soft kisses on each breast before gliding across her neck to her face—”and I waited for you.” His
mouth descended gently, kindly, on hers, and his strength surrounded her.

Cara knew he spoke the truth even before she opened herself up to the intense emotion rushing through him—even before he deepened the kiss until all she could do was feel. She whimpered deep in her throat as she kissed him back, her tongue dueling with his as her hands ran through his ebony hair, down his strong neck to his muscled shoulders—he was all smooth skin over hardness, and she arched against him in desire, in blatant invitation.

He chuckled as he released her mouth and nibbled down one delicate ear to lave the twin puncture wounds already healing in her neck before turning to her breasts. “You are so pretty,” he rumbled against her skin, causing her to clutch her hands into his narrow waist before moving over his rock hard butt.

“You have a great ass,” she replied in a throaty murmur as she traced her own path up his corded neck to bite his earlobe. He reacted by pressing into her and puckering his lips around one distended nipple. She gasped and pushed him to the side, fully aware that he rolled to his back only because he wanted to—she immediately took advantage to perch on his groin before leaning down and peppering his incredible chest with fierce kisses and nips. His hands went to her rear and then up her back as she moved farther south.

He stilled as she swiftly took him in her mouth—the tangy spice of him causing her to moan in enthusiasm. She had wondered about this. One hand reached gently down to cup his balls as she ran kisses up and down his length before again taking as much of him into her mouth as she could—she concentrated on the tip as one small hand tried to encircle his girth. A hand in her hair tried to tug her away and she gave a low chuckle, causing him to buck beneath her.

Then she was under him. He moved too fast for her to follow—one second she was playing and the next she was sprawled on her back with him buried in her to the hilt. She
didn’t have time to breathe before he moved—hard and fast and out of control. He was too big, the pleasure too intense, almost painful, the orgasm slamming into her from deep within—all she could do was clutch his shoulders and cry out at the exquisite waves blasting through her.

She came down with a whimper only to have him whip her back up again, driving into her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other hand holding her hip as he pummeled.

God she loved him.

She gasped as the spiraling feeling deep within her womb, within her heart, started again and her hands clutched at his hard buttocks, pulling him even closer into her. Talen slowed a bit and nipped Cara’s lower lip none too gently. He raised his head and pierced her questioning eyes with his. “Mine.”