Prince of Shadows (10 page)

With a sigh, he took to the shade once more. His little minx was going to have to learn sometime that he wasn't going to let her run from him and now seemed like a damn fine time.

Thankfully Valin's second tackle went much better. Probably because she'd paused to catch her breath on the second rooftop she'd clambered up on. He'd barely reformed before he snatched her right wrist, twisting her around.

Her lips peeled back, exposing elongated fangs. Not at all intimidated, he grabbed her other wrist. Both hands in his firm grip, he spun and smashed her back into the roof's access door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, using every muscle in her tiny, pint-sized vampire body to try and dislodge him.

“Me? Where the fuck did you think you're going?”

“Oh, I don't know…wherever the hell I want?” She jerked her arms against his grip, then when that didn't work, used the metal door to try and lever her body into an arch. It took all his strength to keep her pinned, and all his willpower to not rub himself against the amazing set of curves that she was wiggling so deliciously against his naked self. Finally, with a muffled growl of frustration, she collapsed back against the door.

He was still trying to convince his little brain that this was not the time or place when it finally clicked in his head that she was shaking, badly. Concern that maybe she'd taken some injury during the fight that he hadn't seen had him loosening his grip. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” she hissed, her eyes flashing daggers that would have cut him open if possible. That look and his muscles that still ached from the effort it had taken to catch her should have been sufficient reassurance, but he still didn't like the trembling that shook through her thin frame, rattling everything from her teeth to the bones in her toothpick ankles.

How the heck could she be feeding like that and still be so damn skinny? Unless it was because it was merker blood. Maybe her body couldn't process it properly. Maybe…

He sucked in a breath as a horrible piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Crap, Gabby, is this what's making you sick?”

“What's making me sick?”

“That.” He jerked his head back in the direction of the fallen merker. “Are they what you've been feeding off of?”

She raised her brow and blew at a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her face as if wrapping up a
duh
and a
what
do
you
care
all into one.

“Scratch that, of course they are. Do you always have this sort of reaction to them?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come on, Gabby. The shaking? The sweating?”
The
oily
slickness
of
evil
coating
your
skin.
He didn't say the last part out loud. Still she sucked in a breath, clamping her pretty white fangs down on her lower lip as she averted her gaze. “Aw, fuck. It is, isn't it? You've been feeding off those things and it's making you sick.” He shook his head. “You must realize the harm you're doing to yourself. Why, Gabby? Why are you doing it?”

“Maybe because I like it,” she said, her voice lowered in a sibilant whisper. “Maybe because I need it.”

“Need?” That she needed blood was a given, but to wreak such devastation upon herself?

“Oh yes, I need.” Her gaze moved past him, her eyes sparking crimson as they looked back toward where the merker had fallen. “Before I die I'm going to see as many of those fuckers dead as I can.”

Gabby could tell she'd said something wrong. Not that there could be much more wrong with this moment, and being pinned up against the flaking metal door was the least of it. She never let anyone see her feed, and this was why.

Humiliation burned along with the blazing bonfire of self-disgust. She didn't feed in front of anyone because she didn't want them to witness the sick pleasure she got from her bloodlust. Didn't want them to know how much she craved the dark energy that filled her after exacting just a bit more of her revenge upon Ganelon and his deceased maker.

Only with Valin it seemed infinitely worse. The dark anger in his gaze made her want to shrivel into a puddle of shame at his feet…or kick him in the nuts so as to see something else there.

She jutted her chin up instead. “What? You have a problem with that?”

His jaw clenched, obliterating the devil-may-care magnificence of his face into something far darker and strangely erotic.

That's the succubus in you talking, Gabby.

“You're not going to fucking die,” he growled and then crushed his mouth to hers. Shock had her not reacting; otherwise she would have taken that kick to the boys. At a minimum twist her head away before she could compare the hard press of his lips from her recent imaginings to the reality of the man consuming her now. But she didn't, and he did, and it didn't take her a split second to realize how very wrong those fleetingly brief and definitely unwanted thoughts had been. His kiss wasn't hard and punishing but rather an invitation. Or more aptly, a challenge to explore the deliciousness of his mouth with her own.

Gabby had never been one to back away from a challenge. Challenges had to be met head-on—or at least circumvented through sly planning and sheer will. This didn't call for such finesse, so she threw herself into the kiss, battling his tongue for possession of their shared taste. He growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and vibrating against the softness of her breasts as he pressed himself tight against her.

Her heart thumped—hard—against her ribs. She tried to convince herself it was fear that made the organ seize up, fear of being trapped, fear of not being totally in control, but she knew it was a lie. This kiss was not about winning some sort of damn power struggle but about fulfilling a need. She needed him. Needed his mouth on hers. Needed to taste the dark bitter chocolate of his tongue. Needed the warmth of his body pressed tight to hers. She'd been so cold for so long.

As if to punish her for even thinking as much, she felt him start to pull away. A sound strangely like a whimper rose from her throat as her body treacherously followed.

“Hold on, cookie. Just let me…” His hands lifted from her wrists. Still fearing he meant to end the delicious torture of her senses, she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers into the silken luxury of his thick hair. Only he wasn't leaving because almost immediately the warmth was back in the tight fit of his body against hers, and the blazing heat of those skillful hands working their way under her shirt.

Gabby sucked in a breath, then let it out as his talented fingers skirted a path of warmth up the curve of her rib cage. She hardly noticed the chilling tease of the breeze as he rucked up her tank top, exposing her torso to the night. She only knew that if he would just keep on touching her, keep on tasting her, that she might possibly find the heat she'd been missing in all those power games she'd been forced to play.

You
really
think
this
is
anything
more? You think it can be?

She bit her lip, searching out his face for signs of duplicity and manipulation, but found nothing but heat in his gaze as he took in the view he'd uncovered. What was it with men and boobs?

“God, Gabby…” He pulled at her bra, popping her breast above the constricting fabric. Strangely, looking at her like that was admittedly hot, not vulgar.

“I have to taste you. I have to know,” he said, the words rumbling thickly in the back of his throat. And okay, yeah, that warm, slick heat pooling between her legs in response was a double-hell-yes-that's-hot from her body.

She was practically panting, but before she could clear her fogged brain enough to convince herself how embarrassing that was, his hand latched onto her ass, hoisting her up against the door. A moment later the delicious ridge of his erection pressed against her pelvis as he lowered his mouth to the straining tip of her nipple.

Pinned between the door and his hard body, she arched toward him, biting back a scream as he drew her areola deep into the heat of his mouth. Pleasure rippled from deep within her core, another rush of slick heat coating her most intimate of places and making her burn for the press of his erection against her. But the angle wasn't quite enough. She needed to tip her hips just a little more, only she was pinned so tight she couldn't move.

“Ugh, Valin, I need…” She squirmed.

He chuckled, then obviously reading her mind, he shifted again, this time clutching the cheeks of her ass in both hands to hike her up further. She wiggled, parting her legs and wrapping them around his waist, and holy-fucking-crap that felt so good. He was so hard and thick and if she could somehow just genie-wish away her clothing this might actually be enough.

“Fuck, you're sexy,” he growled, then went back to torturing her with his mouth on her breast. She arched against the heat of his tongue and was immediately rewarded by a groan as he rubbed himself erotically against her. A tremor racked through her body, starting at every point of contact between them and flaring out in a wave of heat until even her toes were tingling with a promised sort of release beyond anything she'd experienced. Sure, she'd brought herself to orgasm before, had forced herself to learn her body so that she might use it as a weapon when needed, but never had the ripples of pleasure left her panting for breath before. His talented hands, his devilish mouth, his rigid length rubbing against her center—she needed more. More of this, more of him. She needed to taste him, needed to…

She dropped her gaze to the top of his head and became mesmerized by the glint of the city night lights off of the thick dark strands. He'd trimmed it since the cave four months ago, a half-ass job wrought with uneven fringes that somehow pulled together into some of the most enticing waves around the back of his neck and ears.

“Damn, Gabby, you taste so good,” he murmured against her breasts, pulling back until her nipple popped out, the coolness of air evaporating the hot moisture left by his tongue. Before she could protest, he switched targets, his head lowering to the other breast, his tongue laving her nipple so that she gasped and clung on tighter.

Oh, yes. She liked being tasted. She wanted to taste him too, if only demanding the freeing of his mouth wouldn't mean ending the luscious sensations to those other parts of her.

He'd tipped his head when he'd altered his attentions to her other breast, exposing the strong curve of where his neck met his shoulders. His skin glistened with the thinnest coating of sweat and made her wonder what he would taste like. Salty? Musky?

Delicious
.

She licked her lips, saliva pooling on the back of her tongue. Before she realized what she was doing, she lowered her head, breathing in deeply. Intoxicated on the scent, she dipped her tongue out, gliding over the hard muscles and corded tendons, and eliciting a moan at the salty tang that danced across her taste buds. Not enough. She trailed a path up his neck, briefly nibbling his earlobe before deciding she liked the heady flavor of the pulse at the crux of his jaw and throat better.

Warm
blood, sweet salty heaven.
Her mind conjured an image of what it would be like to graze her fangs over the smooth skin, the blood welling, then the strike. She licked her lips, dipped her tongue out once more, shuddering at the throb of his pulse skittering against the moist tip of her tongue.

He stilled, but then tipped his head further to the side, granting her better access to the accelerating throb of blood in his vein. She didn't think, instinct overtaking her as she opened her mouth wide and pressed down. Her sharp fangs broke through the surface of his skin, the warm blood welling against her lips. For one blissful moment she gave in to the pleasure of it, her entire body shuddering at the thick sweetness of his life-giving fluid coating her tongue, but then awareness of what she was doing sank in and she jerked back in horror.

“It's okay, Gabby.” His hand sank into the hair at the back of her head, as if trying to draw her back to his neck. “Don't fight it. Let me sustain you.”

Sustain her? She could kill him. Even now, with the horrid realization of how close she'd come to giving in and losing herself to the bloodlust, her body shook with the need to agree to his encouragement, sink her fangs back in, and drink her fill. She couldn't do it. Couldn't give in. Knew that the moment she did there would be no turning back. Knew that the heady bloodlust wouldn't ease but become worse and worse until that was all there was.

Her legs dropped down from around his waist, the hands that had been linked in his hair lowering to push against his chest. He growled, grabbing her face in both his hands, forcing her gaze to his own.

“Gabby…don't. Don't pull away from me.”

She shook her head, her eyes stinging from the effort it took to keep them dry. She had to push him away. He was a temptation she couldn't have around. Not without risking both their lives. “Why are you doing this? Why would you want to help a monster like me?”

He shook his head. “No, Gabby. You're no monster. Christos was a monster. Ganelon's a monster. But you're not.”

“But you think I have Ganelon's blood in me.”

His anger slapped against her, riding the link created by the trickle of blood that still ran down the back of her throat. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don't pull away from me.” He yanked her close, his breath fanning over her ear as he ground his erection against the hollow curve of her belly. “No more running, Gabby. No more denying. There's too much between us for you to be pulling that sort of bullshit anymore.”

A chill settled into her bones, erasing the warmth that had filled her with his touch. Too much between them. Too much lust? On that she could agree, but even as she tried to justify it as that alone, she knew she was kidding herself. This was more than lust. She'd pushed away the nagging suspicion before, convincing herself he was simply a man and she a succubus, but now, with his blood being absorbed into her very essence…
he
cares.

The thought shook through her being, rattling her confidence and stealing her lungs of air. She shook her head in denial. She was the monster. She wouldn't, couldn't let him ruin his life by being with her. And she would not let him steer her from her plans of revenge either. “Don't let some misguided savior complex confuse you. You don't want me.”

His grip shifted to her arms, anger flaring in his bourbon gaze. “Don't tell me what I want.”

“You want to bed one of the creatures responsible for Angeline's slaughter?” She forced a laugh even as acid churned in her gut. “The other Paladin are right. You really are sick, aren't you?”

He stiffened, the impassive expression that settled over his face not matched by the tense grip of his hands. But even if she hadn't been aware of the infinitesimal change in his grip, she would have known how much her words had hurt him. Valin was definitely stronger at projection than she'd suspected, because it felt like a knife had just been driven into her chest.

“What do you know of Angeline?” he asked softly. The words carried like deadly darts on the breeze.

Damnation. How could she be so stupid? No, not stupid, cruel. She twisted her head, unable to look him in the eyes. Why of all the cards she could have played had she tossed down that one?

“How do you know?” He shook her so hard her head rapped against the access door.

Knowing there was no escaping the ball of hot shame coating her innards, she lifted her chin. Cruel or not, the damage was already done. She could run and most likely face him and his questions later, or she could finish the job and ensure that he'd not only leave her alone but run so far and fast that she wouldn't have to worry about being the one doing so.

And why did that hurt so damn much?

Backbone, Gabby. You have one, use it.

“Christos told me,” she said, striving to keep her voice even and unemotional, as if breaking his heart like this didn't affect her at all.

“Christos,” he repeated.

She nodded. “He just loved reliving the details of the bloodbath, especially when I'd done something underhanded that would help one of you…Paladin.” She sneered the word Paladin, injecting some of Christos's own hatred into her voice. After all, if it hadn't been for them, Gabby wouldn't be here to be breaking this man now. Or at least, without their blood running through her veins, perhaps she wouldn't have cared. “It was his crowning moment. The slaughter of so many, the turning of one of you do-good Paladin…oh yes, he loved describing every beseeching word, every bloodcurdling scream.”

There was no hiding the emotions in his expression now. It was all there, plain as day: anger, misery, pain. Tears were openly running down his cheeks, the ache of his agony tearing at her own rib cage. The urge to reach out and comfort had every nerve in her body vibrating, but she had to stay strong if she was going to drive him off.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath. “How…how did she die?”

She stiffened in shock, her breath freezing in her lungs. He didn't know? How could he not know? From everything she'd been told she'd assumed he would have felt his mate die. Had Angeline somehow blocked the link between them? Had Christos? But even then, wouldn't Roland have told him?