He didn't need her touch. His body worked on its own now. With both hands he held her hips tight against him, let her know what she was doing to him. What they'd soon be doing to each other. "Impatient hussy, aren't you?"

"Not really." She pressed her soft belly against his arousal. If he were still mortal, he'd be out of his mind by now. "I've had a rough couple of days. I had to sneak around and deceive Justin, which I hated doing. I traveled the length of England on an off- chance that I'd find you. Climbed over ancient ruins, been shoved off a cliff, broke bones, died, and then woke up a vampire.

You could say," she tilted her head and grinned up at him, "you owe me for my inconvenience."

"Darling," the word rasped out, need burning his soul. "I'm about to pay you back in full."

"With interest?" She pulled back against his arms, her eyes wide as if to swallow his soul. He wanted to bury himself in her, to lose himself in her warmth, to taste her until sated, to drown in the perfume of her arousal.

He hadn't veiled those last thoughts. He'd broadcast them. He watched the goose b.u.mps rise up her arms, her neck arch and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rise toward him. Her lips parted and her chest rose and fell as her hands grasped the back of his head. As she stood on tiptoe and reached for him, he tilted his head down to meet hers.Her mouth opened even before their lips touched, warm and sweet as honey, rich as clotted cream and heady as aged mead.

He sucked her need into him, not to ease his, but to inflame hers higher. She sighed and pressed her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, draining him and firing him with need and power. She groaned as he tilted her head back and angled her body into his, meeting him touch for tremor as his tongue invaded her. Time stopped and senses roared as she glued her shaking, heated body to his.

"Christopher," she sighed, shaking and clinging close.

"My love," he whispered, licking her ear as she spoke. "Shall we finish this here on the carpet, or would you prefer the bed I promised?"

Her eyes gleamed pale iridescence. He'd roused her, sure enough. "A four poster with satin sheets?"

Clasping her hand he kicked the door shut, turned the lock with his mind, and led her five steps across to the wide, dark oak staircase. "Let's try something," he said, bending his elbow to draw her close. "There's a bend in the stair. One jump up there and one to the top. It's quicker than walking."

"Jump?" she asked, looking up at the bend in the staircase.

"Yes, jump. You have to duck your head, or you'll smash it. You can do things like this now."

"I'll take your word for it." She didn't sound convinced. How he'll enjoy watching her discover her powers.

"Stand right by me, when I say 'jump,' jump." She nodded. "One, two, three, jump!"

A split second after him, she leapt and they landed together on the bend in the stair. Not giving her time to think, he repeated the count and she leapt again. Her faith and trust s.h.i.+vered him to the heart. She'd leap off rooftops if he asked.

"That was some jump! I can't believe I did that!" She looked back down, wide-eyed.

"Believe it, darling. Now comes the unbelievable." He whirled her off her feet and through the open door, across the room and tumbled her on the crochet bedspread.

Her eyes smiled invitation, her mouth quivered at the corners as her lips parted. The rosy tip of her tongue moistened her lips and her auburn curls framed her face like a fiery halo. She could drive him crazy or haul him to the heavens while she scrambled his wits. "Stay there!" he whispered "You're not leaving this bed for any reason."

"Oh yeah? Says who?" Her chin tipped up in challenge.

He could meet that anytime she asked. He loomed over her, pressing a hand flat on the mattress on either side of her shoulders.

"Says me," he whispered. "I've waited quite a while for this."

"I've waited as long as you have. Besides, it's not polite for a gentleman to keep a lady waiting."

"Darling, I'm no Southern gentleman. I'm one randy vampire who wants your clothes off."

She grinned, chuckled, then laughed, a deep earthy sound from deep in her belly. A laugh of delight, excitement and need. She tried to sit up, but he bore down on her, latching his mouth on hers and molding a hand over each soft breast The mattress creaked under their combined weight as she wriggled and s.h.i.+fted to accommodate his weight. She s.h.i.+fted her legs apart until he settled himself in the vee between them. He kissed her until the sweet scent of her pitched his senses into overdrive. He pressed himself against her until she squirmed upwards, moaning as he rubbed against her. She was ready and heated and willing.

"I love you," she moaned, arching her pelvis against him."That makes two of us," he whispered back into her mouth.

"I thought you were going to take my clothes off." She almost whimpered the words as her nails dug into his back.

"I am." He rolled sideways off her, slipped his arm under her shoulders until she half-sat, half-lay beside him and in one swift movement raised her tee s.h.i.+rt over her head. "I remember that black bra. Used it to tease me. Not anymore. It's coming off."

It did. And he made short work of her jeans and underwear.

"Don't go anywhere," he said, slowly unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt. Lord, was she beautiful, pale and smooth in the twilight. And she was his creation.

She blinked and sat up as he shed the rest of his clothes quickly. "How do you do that?" she asked as she stared at him, open- mouthed, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swaying as she moved.

"Old vampire trick."

"Oh," she whispered, in a voice so innocent as to be impossible. "Sort of like this." She mind-pinched his nipple.

"Sort of," he agreed and thought-touched his fingers up and down her neck until she sighed. "It's fun when we both do it."

Her intense concentration amused and amazed him. She put all her mind to her new skill, except when he roused her to distraction. "Christopher," she muttered, her voice hoa.r.s.e with wanting. "This is fun but I what more."

So did he, but he had to go slowly, help her learn her new strength without lessening her pa.s.sion. "When we touch, nothing you do can ever hurt me. You're strong, stronger than you can imagine, but not yet as strong as I am."

"I suppose that will take me four hundred years."

"Nah, only a century, or so." He couldn't tell her growth and strength depended on the frequency of feeding. Not yet. He'd explain that later. Much later.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full and golden as Guernsey cream, as smooth as polished ivory, and as sweet as her heart. He cupped then gently squeezed each warm globe, increasing pressure and force until he kneaded and teased and her nipples rose like proud peaks and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s gleamed rosy in the twilight. He squeezed hard. Hard enough to bruise a mortal. She moaned and bucked. "More, harder," she whispered. At her words, his hands moved at lightning speed, caressing, covering, pinching and tweaking until she arched and cried, wanting, begging for more with every move and sigh. Then she turned to him.

She became the aggressor, touching, kneading and biting. A wild dance of heat and pa.s.sion rose between them, and steamed as they rolled and bounced and shook the bed beneath them. Time stopped as they mated with fierce primeval pa.s.sion.

Wrapped in a need more vast than any mortal want, they joined in a frenzied coupling. Her guttural cries echoed off the rafters as he brought her with him in ecstasy and they soared to the heavens together, collapsing on the rumpled sheets-contented but insatiate.

"I never dreamed," she sighed, her eyes misty with contentment, "of loving like that. I thought, the other time, that you were wonderful. But this..."

"I know. Beyond mortal imagination."

She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at him. "Don't get carried away."

"Why not? What else do you have planned for the next week?""Not much point in my planning anything. You seem to have it all organized."

"Yes," he replied and rolled her back on the pillow.

Before he could nuzzle her neck and tickle her as he planned, she pushed herself upright, her hand on his chest and her eyes wide in horror. "You're bleeding!" Her hands traced the nips and scratches on his chest, then she turned his shoulders and gasped at the sight of the lines she'd raked across his back. "I did that?" she whispered, her voice rising with shock.

"Not to worry, you have some too-though I tried not to mark you this time."

She glanced down at the scratches on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Why didn't you warn me? But they don't hurt."

Resting a hand on each shoulder, he drew her close. "They won't, and they're healing even now. Watch." Her jaw dropped as she watched the scratches fade and the grazes heal. "Vampires mend fast. A broken bone overnight. A cut in minutes. A scratch in seconds. I told you, you couldn't hurt me. Remember that night James. .h.i.t me with the car? I had a broken leg. It hurt to walk on, but I strapped it up when I got home and by morning, it had healed."

"Then why did that stone knife nearly kill you?"

The wound ached, even as she mentioned it. "That was different. It was a witch blade. The Druids revered them as ancient knives-some even claim they're extraterrestrial. It drained my strength, but even that couldn't kill me. The addition of sunlight on my weakened state added insult to injury. It'll never happen again."

"What if there's a hidden a.r.s.enal of witch blades somewhere?"

He'd have to stop this line of questioning. They'd be discussing Caughleigh next, and one thing he vowed: he wasn't sharing his bed and Dixie with Sebastian Caughleigh in any way, shape, or form. "Let me show you something." He gathered her in his arms, and carried her, naked as starlight, to the window and threw wide both cas.e.m.e.nts. "Night. The dark that rejuvenates.

Night eases any hurt or injury. Learn to love the nighttime."

"It's a full moon." She turned in his arms, the light casting silver shadows on the contours of her face and the lush curves of her body.

"Most auspicious."

"What for?" As she asked, she met his eye and read his answer. "Already?" she whispered, excitement raw and rough under the quiet tone.

He carried her over to the sheepskin rug by the empty fireplace. "We'll try the floor now," he growled as he raised her ankles to his shoulders and she moaned with antic.i.p.ation.

Hours later, he carried her back to bed.

"Let me walk," she said as he scooped her up in his arms.

"Without those shoes, my love, you know what happens." She frowned. He kissed between her eyebrows. "Be patient. You'll have shoes when you wake."

He smelled sunrise coming and sensed the drowsiness behind her eyes. He tucked the pad of earth under the mattress where she lay, and pulled the covers up to her waist.

She still smiled, dazed with pa.s.sion, and drugged by the scents of love. She had to be sore-heaven knew he ached. "Sleep, my love," he whispered, drawing the sheets up over her shoulders. He closed the windows, pulling down the blackout blind to protect her from stray sunbeams and light shards.She lay comatose in the darkened room. He should leave, but couldn't. He drew up the armchair, glorying in the sight of his love. She was his. His creation. His possession. The love of his life. His love for eternity.

If he could only keep her.

Chapter Sixteen.

Dixie woke with the sunset with no fatigue, no grogginess-coming from sleep to wakefulness in a moment-and saw Christopher watching her from the chair by the window. "Have you been there all day?" When he smiled like that, she knew she could fly.

"Not yet. Learn to run before you fly."

Time to veil her mind-better still, close it like a steel shutter. "Were you here all day?"

"Most of the time. I brought your things in from the car. Watched the news and saw Tom when he brought up your shoes." He dropped the package on the crochet spread. There were two pairs of shoes: black leather sneakers and a pair of patent leather sling backs with a wedge heel. Both had inch-thick platform soles.

"They'll be heavy to walk in." On second thoughts, they wouldn't. Not now. Unlikely that vampires suffered blisters or sore feet.

"Try them out. Want a moonlight run across the moors?"

"Shouldn't I get dressed first?"

He leered at that. "You decide. We'll move too fast for anyone to see us."

She decided on clothes. She was raised in the South, after all.

The night smelled of honeysuckle, rain clouds and freshly turned earth. She stood by the open door, Christopher's arm around her waist, the wide arc of night sky beckoning. Stars gleamed like a thousand hopes as she stepped out the back door. She brushed past lavender and scented geraniums, walking down the stone path. They faced the open moor. A dry stone wall was the only barrier before the vast openness of North Yorks.h.i.+re.

"When I say 'go,' start running," Christopher said. "When I say 'jump,' jump. It's that easy."

Was it? The wall was three, maybe four, feet high, looked as solid as the house behind them, and hard enough to break bones.

But now, that would only be an inconvenience.

She stood firmly on the ground, anch.o.r.ed by the soil beneath her feet, and began running at his signal. Five strides and a jump.

Clear the wall? She could have cleared a shed with s.p.a.ce to spare. The jump carried her twelve feet from the wall to land on soft, sheep-cropped turf.

"Study the stars. That's how we get home. The Plough. The North Star. In open country we don't have many landmarks and, as fast as we go, we miss most of them."

Previous Top NextThey weren't the positions she knew from home but he was right. The North Star stayed put.

"See that outcrop?" He pointed to a jagged silhouette on the horizon. "It's called Boggles' Roost. We're going there."

"You're kidding! Nothing is called 'Boggles' Roost.' Besides, boggle is a verb."

"Nay, luv, din fret tha'sel." He did a lousy Yorks.h.i.+re accent. Even she could tell that much. "Th'art in Yorkshur noo."

"And?"

He gave up on the Yorks.h.i.+re. "They have boggles here. Or did. There's a boggle hole not far from where you had your tumble."

"And what exactly is a boggle?"

"The local dialect for hobbit."

"Oh, please!" On the other hand, why not? She personally knew vampires. She was a vampire! Why not hobbits, goblins and elves too?

Christopher stepped close to her in the moonlight and brushed the hair from her forehead before dropping a kiss like heated velvet. "Let's go. I'll hold your hand until you find your stride. Then we'll race. Last one there has to kiss the other."

"It's a deal."

"Now!"

A split second behind him, she ran, grasping his hand. Chest forward, legs pumping, her face raised to the wind as they raced like comets. She'd skied downhill, galloped across open fields on horseback, and water-skied. Nothing equaled the thrill, the exhilaration of racing across an open moor at sixty miles an hour.

Christopher dropped her hand and sped ahead. So, he'd win would he? Not without a fight! Her legs pumped like weightless pistons. No breath to catch, no heart to pound, her body moved to her will, no mortal limitations-but she still couldn't beat Christopher. He had a four-hundred-year advantage.