Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (52 page)

I love you too, sweetling.

He opened his eyes to see her smile, radiant and beautiful.

Then the trapdoor opened and she fell.

* * * * *

With a jerk Lucien came awake.

The sun was blazing around the curtains but the room was still dark.

He felt a tightness in his gut, his skin dampened with sweat, Leah curled into the curve of his body, her heartbeat and breathing steady.

Asleep.

“Holy Christ,” he whispered.

He remembered every vivid, horrifying second of his dream.

Every excruciating second.

He could actually feel the smooth satin of her claiming gown under his hands, the weight of her body over his shoulder as he ran, the touch of the flame.

“Holy Christ,” he repeated.

Was this what she was dreaming? Was this what sent her fleeing the bed, terrified and sobbing?

It had to be.

“Holy
Christ,
” he gritted between his teeth.

She stirred.

He moved, turning her still sleeping body into his arms, he put his mouth to her, tasting her, his hands stroking at the same time. Down his mouth went to her breast, he rolled his tongue around a nipple.

“Lucien?” Her sleepy voice sounded, her hands came to his shoulders.

He moved south.

“Lucien,” she breathed, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair.

He spread her legs, shifted her calves over his shoulders and put his mouth to her. Relentlessly, he feasted on her as she gasped and panted, her fingers clenched in his hair, her hips bucking.

Voracious, always voracious, his Leah, this time, demanding more of his mouth. Her muscles tensed, heels digging into his back and she cried out his name when she came.

He surged over her, controlling his heart, calling out to hers, making them beat as one while slamming into her lush wetness savagely in one, long, smooth, brutal thrust as she panted out his name again still in the throes of her climax. He nearly forgot to sweep his tongue along her neck before he extended his razor-sharp fangs and tore through her flesh.

Then he was thrusting, her body jerking, her blood pumping into his mouth with each deep, violent plunge, every beat of their hearts throbbing in tandem.

He’d been correct.

Fucking
rapture.

She wrapped herself tightly around him and came again, harder, nails digging into his skin, breath catching and halting, heart tripping. He felt the pressure building in his own body, sharp and fierce, his cock aching to release.

He closed her wound with his tongue and used her hair to force her to face him.

Her eyes half-closed, somnolent, sated, he shook her head with his fist in her hair, trying to be gentle and fearing he’d failed when her eyes snapped open.

“You’re mine,” he growled, surging into her.

“Yes,” she panted without delay.

“Say it,” he demanded.

She acquiesced, again immediately, “I’m yours.”

“Always.”

As he thrust into her, faster, harder, the pressure building, her body jolting under him, he felt her limbs tense and watched as her face paled.

She didn’t speak.

“Say it, Leah.
Always,
” he ground out.

“Lucien…”

He thrust into her, deeper, harder and she whimpered in pleasure.

“Say it!” he commanded.

Her eyes locked with his.

“I’m yours, Lucien,” she whispered, “always.”

It was at that moment he came, long and hard, an orgasm unparalleled in eight hundred years. It was even better than the one she’d given him last night during their first joining which he would have thought impossible.

After, he allowed his weight to collapse on her for long moments before he heard her breath turn heavy from taking his burden.

Then he rolled them, careful to keep them joined, so he was on his back, she was straddling him, her torso to his, her face in his neck, breath still coming fast and brushing lightly against his skin.

Moments passed, Lucien matching his heart to the pulsing rhythm of Leah’s as he tried to shut down his mind. To shut out the images burned there from his dream. The traces of satin on his hands. The dread tearing through his soul as he sought to escape the hunt. None of this reconciled with Leah in his arms, her sweet wetness still tight around his cock, her breasts crushed against his chest, her heartbeat thumping rapidly.

Belatedly, he smelled her fear.

“Leah?”

Her heart skipped and his skipped with it.

Then she whispered, “What was
that?
”

“Leah –”

She started to lift up but his arms held her captive.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, “we’ll disconnect.”

She stilled.

Then she asked, “Lucien, what just happened?”

He had no earthly idea. He’d never behaved with such a driven even desperate need before.

This wasn’t true. When he discovered the enemy had tortured and murdered his mate, he’d behaved with a driven, desperate need for fifty years. First fighting then hunting anyone who had anything to do with those who brought about Maggie’s death.

Why he felt that need now, outside a reaction to the nightmare, he didn’t know.

What he did know was that he wasn’t going to tell Leah that he’d shared her dream. This would likely alarm her and until he understood what was happening he intended to shelter her from that.

So in an effort to shield her, Lucien lied.

He moved his hips and her muscles contracted deliciously around his still-hard cock.

“I think the answer to that is fairly obvious, pet.”

“I… you… we,” she stammered, “it’s never been like that.”

His fingers sifted in her hair and he murmured, “We’ve only been lovers one night, Leah.”

Her body jerked and he caught her again before her movements could break their joining, something which he was compelled to prolong, again for reasons unknown.

“I don’t mean it’s never been like that between you and me. I mean it’s never been like that for me
ever
. Maybe for any woman
in the history of time
.”

Drama,
he thought in a moment of amusement before his gut clenched in memory.

I’m not being dramatic!
she retorted and his body jolted in shock.

He hadn’t been speaking to her. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t meant for her to hear.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“Yes, you
were
talking to me. Or, I should say, making fun of me.” She tried to move again but he kept her pinned to him. “Let me up,” she demanded.

His arms grew tight before he responded, “I want to feel you around me for a little while longer.”

She pressed against him. “Let… me…
up!
”

He let her up but only her torso. He kept her hips fixed to his with an arm about her waist.

She glared down at him, her hair falling about her face in waves. Looking at her, finally he felt the clutch of the nightmare release.

This was Leah, his Leah, now fully his, all of her.

Not running, not hiding, not climbing a scaffold, she was alive and, apparently, angry.

This made him smile which made her glare turn to a scowl which, in turn, made his smile deepen.

“You seem in an immensely foul mood for someone who just came twice,” he remarked.

Her eyes widened, her anger accelerated, he knew because her heart did as well taking his with it. She opened her mouth to speak and then suddenly shook her head and looked to the side.

Then she muttered, “Why couldn’t I be some
other
immortal’s concubine? A werewolf. Or Frankenstein, I could escape Frankenstein. He doesn’t move very fast. A wraith would be good, they’re ethereal. I could probably slip…”

She hadn’t noticed his body freeze but she stopped talking when he whipped her to her back. Disconnecting their joining, he settled on top of her, pinning her to the bed.

She stared up at him in surprise.

“What do you know of other immortals?” he demanded, savage fury tingeing his voice primarily because he was
savagely furious
.

She reacted to the fury. He smelled it and he heard it and he didn’t give a fuck.

“Wh… what?”

“What do you know of other immortals? Werewolves? Wraiths?”

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Lucien shook her and he didn’t do it gently. “Tell me, damn it!”

“I don’t know!” she gasped. “I mean, Avery…”

She stopped speaking, her eyes dropping to his jaw as it went rigid.

Between clenched teeth, he gritted, “I’m going to fucking
kill
him.”

“Lucien?” Her tone was uncertain and very frightened.

He gaze bore into hers. “Don’t tell anyone you know of the existence of other immortals, Leah. Not a single soul. Not your family, not Stephanie, not Edwina –”

“Edwina knows,” she admitted softly. “She was there when Avery –”

He closed his eyes and ground out, “Fucking hell.”

“He didn’t say anything, Lucien. Not anything,” Leah defended hurriedly and he opened his eyes to glare at her. “He just said he was immortal but he wasn’t a vampire. He didn’t tell me what he was. He didn’t tell me what other immortals there were. He said if he said anything it would mean his death. Earlier I was just guessing.”

“I’ll wager, my pet, he didn’t tell you that if anyone found out
you
knew then
you’d
face certain death.”

She pulled in a sharp breath.

“Yes,” Lucien clipped. “So no one is in on this secret. No one. I’ll have a word with Edwina and I’ll have several with Avery.”

Her hand came to his neck, fingers curling there and he could feel the slight tremor.

“Please don’t be angry with him. He was trying to be kind,” Leah whispered.

“Putting your life in danger is far from kind,” Lucien returned, his anger not abating, the nightmare too fresh as was this new danger.

Pain slashed through her face before she went on, her voice gentle, “Maybe he’s tired of hiding, Lucien. Maybe he felt he was among friends. Maybe he knew I’d accept him. Maybe he trusted me. That isn’t something to be angry about. That’s an honor he bestowed on me.”

“Letting me break you one day doesn’t make you friend and protector of all immortals the next, Leah.” His tone was sharp and derisive because her words had no effect.

He was still angry.

And troubled.

The Council was considering his request. They owed him and he had friends on The Council, friends who he had no doubt would become allies if things didn’t go his way. Therefore friends who would do all in their considerable power to make things go his way. No one wanted war.

Those who were not friends, those who wished to defy change because they feared it or because they hated him were using Rafe’s behavior as grounds to deny Lucien’s request.

Rafe had not yet taken Lana as a lover but he’d told Lucien he wanted to and he was now spending the night with her, this being the reason why The Council finally called him in. Rafe had not joined with her because he feared for her safety.

Lucien approved of Rafe’s intentions and when speaking to him encouraged them.

As he would encourage any vampire who wished to bloody well behave like a fucking vampire.

If this was known, this would not sway The Council in his favor, even his friends might demur. Allowing Lucien a boon was one thing, allowing rampant and widespread change to centuries of tradition was another.

However, if it was known that Leah held the knowledge that other cultures existed, he’d not get his request granted for she’d be executed.

No, she’d be
hunted
then she’d be executed.

They had enough to worry about, most of it she didn’t even know, they didn’t fucking need
this
.

He caught her flinch at his mocking words. It wounded him but he ignored it. He’d make it up to her and she’d forgive him. At that moment he had to make her understand.

“That wasn’t nice,” she whispered.

“No, it wasn’t. I wasn’t trying to be nice, pet. I was trying to get it through that thick, stubborn head of yours that this is serious.”

Her eyes flashed. “I may be stubborn, Lucien…” she hesitated, looking strangely but also hilariously confused for a second then repeated, “Lucien Whatever-your-last-name-is, but I’m
not
stupid. I think I get it. Certain death is a pretty big motivator to keep a secret.”

When she stopped speaking, she glared at him. He returned her glare. He felt her discomfort well before he was ready to back down.

Finally and waspishly she demanded to know, “What
is
your last name anyway?”