Immortals After Dark 03 - No Rest for the Wicked

hair filling him with her scent.
    “Katja.” He thrust harder and she writhed wildly beneath him. “You’re mine .”
    “Yes, yes... you’re making me... come.” She arched her back, crying out. He wrapped his arms tightly around her torso, trapping her against his body as he bucked furiously against her.
    He groaned toward the ceiling, neck tensed, as his seed began to pump from him. With each shot, he gave a brutal yell. She was still coming, her claws sunk into his back.
    He gave one last violent shudder, then collapsed on her, stunned to silence by the pleasure. His breaths, so new and astounding to him, were ragged.
    But when he realized what he’d just done to her, he flushed, humiliated, pushing up from her and averting his eyes.
    Bride or not, she was a stranger to him, but he’d shamed himself like a green lad in front of her. Much worse, he’d used all the strength in his body to hold her down and shove against her. How could he not have hurt her? How could he not have bruised her perfect skin? He dreaded meeting her eyes. To see that betrayed look...
    Yet then, she tugged him back down and turned her head slightly, seeming to nuzzle the side of his neck. She began rubbing her face against his, almost like a cat. Though she had the strangest manner of showing it, he knew she was indeed giving him affection.
    Affection. Another ecstasy for him. He hadn’t been touched in so long.
    He rested on his elbows as she gazed up at him with her eyes soft, flickering between silver and dark hazel, her expression satisfied. Holding her face with both of his shaking hands, he brushed kisses over her eyelids, her nose. She was the loveliest creature he had ever imagined—and the most passionate—and she was his.
    His voice hoarse, he said, “I have not told you my name. I am Sebastian Wroth.”
    Still seeming entranced, she murmured, “ Bastian, ” making him want to squeeze her.
    He grinned down at her. “Only my family used to call me that. It pleases me that you would.”
    “Uh-hmm.” She scratched his neck in languid circles.
    Excitement was still drumming in him. The idea of learning everything about her filled him with anticipation, but first he had to know—“Did I... did I... hurt you?”
    “I’ll be sore.” Her lips curled, then she rubbed her face against him once more, this time as if grateful. “But only in the most delicious places.”
    His cock was still semi-hard in the wet heat of his jeans, and the way she purred that one simple word, delicious, made it swell once more. He didn’t understand how she could simply shrug off being hurt, but there was no way he’d act on the need welling once more. He fought to ignore how good she felt beneath him.
    He brushed back her hair, revealing her pointed ears. The tiny fangs, the claws, the eyes... “Katja, what are... ” He cleared his throat. “What are you?”
    Her brows drew together. “I’m a—” She tensed in an instant. Her eyes cleared completely, as though she’d just woken up. All the supple muscles of her body that had gone soft and pliant after her orgasm now grew rigid.
    With a sharp inhalation, she kicked him off her—hard—sending him to the opposite wall, then shot to her feet. “Ah, gods, what have I done?” she whispered, bringing a tremulous hand to her forehead. Her face was cold, but her eyes burned wild as she backed away.
    He stood, hands in front of him so as not to startle her.
    But then she roughly ran her sleeve over her mouth, infuriating him. He recognized her disgust, recognized the sentiment.
    He’d shared it about himself ever since he’d been turned.

    “We’re going to forget this happened, vampire.” She couldn’t believe she’d just felt gratitude toward him. Because he’d given her relief from desire? What the hell had happened? Reality was seeping in, and with it came shame so hot it stung her.
    “How can I possibly forget this?”
    Maybe a capricious power had played with her, forcing her to do things she would never do. Or had she caught a spell? She had to leave at once. “Vow not to tell anyone, and I’ll let you live for now.”
    “ Let me live—?”
    He didn’t finish the sentence, because in the space of three words, she’d collected her sword, then shot behind him to tuck it menacingly between his legs. She’d moved so quickly she was a blur.
    “Yes, let you live,” she hissed at his ear.
    “You are unused to this.” He traced across the room and stood, arms out,