Rose's Rapture: Lords of the Night, Book Two (11 page)

Lazarus licked the tender area, allowing his tongue to glide up, taste every inch of her. Her channel wept with her overflowing juices and he drank voraciously, savoring her. His cock grew heavy as he rose up over her body. “Do you trust me, Abigail?” he asked.

Her eyes were closed and her mouth remained slightly parted. The flush of her skin showed a well-pleasured woman.

“Do you?” he asked again, his patience fraying.

She cracked one eye open to look at him. Her gaze swept his face. Lazarus tried to remain impassive, but the answer to this question was important. He needed her to trust him, to want him, to ultimately love him for who and what he was. He needed her total surrender. He knew she wanted him. She wouldn’t have given him her body otherwise, not after all these years. Now it was imperative that she know she could trust him. He would protect her with his life.

“Yes,” she finally said on a gasp.

His jaw firmed. “I’m going to ask you to prove it.”

Her lip trembled. “How?”

“By giving yourself to me. All of you,” he said, circling his finger around her back entrance for emphasis.

Her eyes widened and she froze. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You said you trusted me.” His heart sped within his chest. He knew Abigail was the one, the only woman for him. So little time remained to confirm his belief. He knew he was rushing her, but he had no choice. His time here was ending.

“I do.” She tried to turn, but he held her in place.

“Then prove it.” His hand dropped back to her clit, thrumming the flesh until it sprang back to life. He followed the move by pressing one finger into her.

Abigail’s hips jerked at the foreign invasion. “Please Lazarus.”

“Please what?” Please gods don’t let her ask him to stop.

She turned her head away, her cheeks burning red. “Please...keep going.”

He kissed the side of her mouth, then rose to position the head of his cock against her virgin ass. Blood roared through his body nearly deafening him. He dipped into her sheath, covering his cock with her moisture. Lazarus pressed forward slowly, waiting for her body to relax and allow him entrance. “Push out,” he said, slipping a notch deeper.

Power surged through him as her newfound sexual energy fed him, while her trust expanded his heart. Lazarus rocked his hips and he slid further. He swallowed hard, ignoring the moisture bathing his lashes. It took him a moment to realize that he wept for her selflessness. This woman, who didn’t know what he was, offered herself freely.

How many centuries had he dreamed of this moment? Even though he felt her tight muscles squeeze him until he was sure he’d burst, Lazarus could hardly believe it was truly happening. She was truly here, in his arms, surrendering completely. There was only one emotion that would allow such a thing. Love. She may not realize it yet, but Abigail did love him.

He seated his length inside her, then waited to move. After several deep breaths, she relaxed. The first thrust nearly brought him to completion. Tight and untried, he rode her softly, not wanting to harm her or the gift she was giving him in any way.

Lazarus stroked the side of her thigh, then his hand slid beneath her until he’d once again found her hidden pearl. He played with her flesh, listening to the sounds of her desire grow as he brought her closer to the abyss.

“I want you to come for me, Abigail. I need to hear your cries, ringing in my ears, feel your contractions as I spill my seed deep within you.”

She whimpered and her hips rocked to meet him. Lazarus groaned as the sensations swallowed him. He quickened his pace, stroking and cajoling her until they both teetered on the razor’s edge. One final surge pulled them under, drowning them in a sea of sensation.

Lazarus’s bellow nearly drowned out Abigail’s orgasmic cry. He collapsed on top of her unable to move for a few seconds. “You,” he said, panting next to her ear, “are the most perfect woman in the world. Thank you for this precious gift.” He wasn’t referring to her physical surrender, but he knew that’s what she would believe. Lazarus was content to let her do so, for now.

He leaned close and kissed her, his lips lingering on her cheek, nuzzling her neck. Lazarus shifted his weight, until he could hold Abigail in his arms. They fell asleep sated and content, lost in a lover’s bliss. Only he knew their days were numbered.

* * * * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

The week flew by and every day heralded a new arrival of flowers. Rose glanced around her home. Not a space remained that didn’t hold a bloom. Hamish had sent her so many bouquets she feared he’d be left destitute. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Rose smiled. In all her life a man had never attempted to woo her. Not like this. She found it disconcerting, but strangely charming.

They’d attended one other ball since they’d become lovers and it appeared that the Scottish ton looked upon their attachment favorably. Despite her resolve to keep her heart safely guarded, Rose knew that if Hamish wanted it all he’d need to do was ask.

Tonight was the last major ball of the season. The McClary clan had hunted for the feast over the past week. The entire countryside had been invited and most had accepted. The crowd would be a push, but Rose knew she had to go. She looked forward to seeing Abigail. Between Hamish’s and Lazarus’s erotic demands, they hadn’t managed a visit.

She hadn’t spotted the man who resembled Lord William Longfellow since the McCoy’s gathering and hadn’t heard whispers of a stranger in town. Rose was beginning to think she’d imagined the whole episode. Perhaps, it was just nerves over her growing feelings for Hamish. It had been a long time since she’d sought happiness. For years, Rose had believed it out of reach. But the move to Scotland had changed all that. Hamish had convinced her it was possible.

He hadn’t stated his intentions and for all his demonstrations of affection, she still got the impression that he was holding something back. Something that wore heavily upon him. She’d caught the shadows in his eyes when he didn’t realize she was looking. Rose decided that he could keep his secrets as long as he allowed her to keep hers. It was only fair.

She turned toward the study, giving one last glance at the flowers. Rose’s heart sped as she pictured Hamish’s handsome face. Warmth filled her, along with the aroma of the blooms. No time to daydream. She had work to do before the ball. Her slippered feet were silent as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

* * * * *

It had taken Lord William Longfellow the last of his blunt to bribe one of the maids in Rose’s employ, but the information she’d given him had been worth it. Too bad he couldn’t allow her to live long enough to spend the money. He couldn’t take the chance that she’d have a change of heart and tell Rose that he was here.

He wanted their meeting tonight to be a surprise. As much of a surprise as he’d had when he discovered the man wooing her with flowers was a demon like Lord Richard Lyon. The whore he’d fucked days earlier had remembered Laird MacDougall’s fangs. She couldn’t remember much else, but the fear in her eyes had been real. William believed her. No matter how many lashes from the whip she’d received, her story never changed.

The whole situation made a bizarre kind of sense. Maybe Rose was passed from creature to creature. For a whore, there would probably be little difference between cocks and fangs. He shook his head. Killing her would be the merciful thing to do, he rationalized. Rose probably didn’t want to go on living that kind of life.

In fact, William was sure in the end that Rose would thank him for saving her soul and destroying the creature that preyed upon her. It was the least he could do given their history. In gratitude, she’d want him to have her house and possessions. And that was exactly how he’d present it to the magistrate, after Hamish MacDougall killed her and William identified her lifeless body. He’d make sure the ‘papers’ were in order, so there’d be no question of his claim.

“My dear, you’ve been more than helpful,” he said, slowly undressing the maid, who mentioned something about her name being Harriet.

“Thank you, my lord.” She bit her lip and groaned as he pressed his mouth to her neck.

She wasn’t comely like the women he was used to laying with, but she was willing.

“Will we return to your London home soon, my lord?” she asked, thrusting her meager chest out as he teased her nipples.

“Yes, just as soon as I finish my dealings with your mistress and MacDougall.” William slipped her dress down her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up. He had no intention of finding a position in his home for this young chit. He valued loyalty above all else and she’d already proven herself lacking. He reached for the hem of her skirt, bunching it in his fists as he lifted the thin fabric. She hadn’t worn a chemise so her legs were bare beyond her stockings.

William walked her over to the wall. “Bend over,” he said, bracing her hands above her head.

Harriet glanced over her shoulder, her eyes growing wide with trepidation. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord?”

He ignored her question and unfastened his breeches to free his cock. “I said, bend over.” William reached out and pinched her nipple hard as punishment for her defiance.

She whimpered, but did as he asked.

“That’s better,” William said, nudging his thigh between her legs to spread her wider. She wasn’t moist, but that didn’t stop him from entering her.

She winced.

He swiftly took his pleasure, then grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it around his wrist until she cried out in pain. “You dare speak a word of our encounter and your hair won’t be the only thing I’ll twist.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

William walked out the door and nodded to the two ruffians he’d hired earlier. “She’s all yours,” he said. “Make sure her body isn’t found.”

* * * * *

The ball was in full swing when the note arrived. Hamish scanned the crowd for Rose, but couldn’t detect her presence. Unease rippled through him as he reread the missive.

Hamish,

I have received disturbing news regarding your past. It cannot possibly be true, although proof has been presented to me. I choose not to believe until we have spoken. Come at once. Do not dally. I shall await you in the McClary family crypt.

Rose

There was only one thing this could mean. She’d found out about his true nature. Hamish’s stomach clenched. He’d been so careful, even going so far as to erase her memory when he’d been unable to control his fangs. He hadn’t fed from her since that first night, even though his body had all but begged and pleaded for him to do so.

Obviously, his safeguards hadn’t worked. He’d been a fool to touch her and now he was going to pay the price for his folly. The thought of losing Rose sent a spike of pain through his chest. Could he stand to lose another? A tendril of fear followed the sudden discomfort. What if she wished to expose him?

It didn’t bear thinking about. Hunger beat at Hamish as he glanced around the room. He knew he should’ve fed before coming, but he’d had to take care of unexpected business at the last moment. He closed his eyes and fought for control. His hand closed around the note. He could put off their meeting no longer.

Hamish slipped from Moira McClary’s ball, but not before planting memories in several minds that they’d just seen him. He should be safe, at least for a short while.

He walked into the garden through the terrace doors, trying to appear relaxed. Several couples milled, taking in the cool air. He smiled and waved, making small talk without stopping. As soon as he made it past them, Hamish blurred his image as he sped to the crypt.

Why had she picked the crypt as a meeting place? It was private, but far from an ideal place to hold a conversation. Dank, dark, and foreboding the burial chamber offered no comforts. What was Rose thinking? Fear returned as he realized it could very well be a trap. Would she do something like that after everything they’d shared? The thought was too painful to consider. She’d stolen his heart. And now she held his very life in her small hands. He was so preoccupied with worry over his dearest Rose that Hamish didn’t sense the danger until it was too late.

Pain lanced through him, burning his flesh. He glanced down at the silver blade protruding from his chest. He gripped the blade and his hands began to smoke. Hamish cried out and released the sword. The man holding the weapon pushed him deeper into the candlelit crypt.

“Get down on your knees, demon,” he demanded.

Hamish dropped, his gaze going to his attacker’s face. He didn’t recognize the man. “Who are you?” he asked, risking a glance around the small space. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’ll be here soon.” He pushed the blade deeper, scalding Hamish’s insides and taking his breath away. Whoever this man was he appeared to be aware of Hamish’s weaknesses. That made him far more dangerous than he outwardly seemed.

“Who are you?” he repeated the question. “Why are you doing this?”

“Shackle yourself.” The man nodded to the silver shackle and chain secured to the floor.

“If you hurt Rose, I’ll kill you,” Hamish growled out the warning.

The man smiled. “How touching, but I won’t be the one hurting Rose. You will.” He glanced at the wound on Hamish’s chest, following the rivulets of blood as they flowed down his now crimson shirt. He twisted the sword and the flow increased.

The look the man gave him chilled Hamish to the bone. He realized the man had purposely missed his heart. He didn’t want him dead. At least not yet. “You are a stranger, yet you know who I am,” Hamish said through clenched teeth. “Do me the courtesy of sharing your name before you kill me.” He wanted an answer, before he succumbed to blood loss and passed out.

“I am Lord William Longfellow. Rose’s fiancé.”

“Her what?” Hamish sputtered. Surely he hadn’t heard the man correctly. “Lady Carlson never told me she was engaged.”

Longfellow laughed, then tsked as he straightened one sleeve while maintaining control of the weapon. “I suspect there’s a lot she hasn’t told you about her past. In fact, you’ve both been keeping quite the secrets from each other. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she knows your secret.”