Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

family.
    So she marched into the bathroom. Seeing herself in all this makeup with the Elvira-in-heat dress was like looking at Saroya. For the first time, Ellie was seeing what the goddess would prefer to look like.
    She turned on the hot water to wash her face. “I hate you more than hell, Saroya.”
    A psychologist could have a field day with this. Staring into the mirror with hate? Daily affirmations turned to daily accusations?
    Damn it, I should be dead right now! But the bitch had thwarted her yet again. “You may have won this battle, Saroya, but I’ll win the war. I’ll destroy you, somehow.” Even as she said these bold words, Ellie wrestled with regret over her plight.
    Part of her still wished for another chance, for the possibility to live. Why did she have to make this sacrifice? Why had it fallen to her?
    But she’d long resigned herself to her fate.
    Gathering water in her hands, she said, “Your big finish is rolling in like a thunderstorm. No stopping it.” She scrubbed her face harder than she ever had, ridding herself of Saroya’s war paint.
    Another gander into the mirror. I’m back, she thought, even though the goddess’s presence lurked within, eating away at her like a cancer.
    After drying her tender skin, Ellie returned to the closet. Combingthrough the choices, she threw on a pair of jeans and a simple navy blouse. Feeling more like Ellie , she left her feet bare.
    Unable to stop herself, she sneaked another peek at those jewels. She recalled the way Lothaire had shown them to her. Without a word, without bragging.
    Why had he cared if Ellie saw them? Had he anticipated her floored reaction? Figured she’d go crazy like Saroya?
    Then she frowned. Lothaire had never said anything to indicate that he and Saroya liked each other, much less loved each other. He’d talked only of fate and bloodings .
    Questions about him surfaced endlessly. Did he love the goddess? Why hadn’t he bedded his Bride ? Were all vampires as ruthless as he was?
    She wished she could analyze Lothaire at her leisure, maybe use her degree to benefit her.
    One of the reasons she’d studied psychology was that she’d always found it easy to empathize with others. A handy tool for a counselor.
    But psychology was the science of human behavior. He was in-
human . . . .
    She would just have to work harder to discover what made Lothaire tick, using any means necessary.
    When she exited the closet, she remembered that earlier they’d walked out of the main doorway from her suite. They’d traced back inside. Unlike the door adjoining Lothaire’s room, it would be unlocked.
    Wouldn’t even have to pick it.
    Maybe when he left, she’d investigate this place. Did she dare disobey him? He’d probably never even know she’d sneaked out.
    With that aim in mind, she knelt at the doorway crack to his bedroom, listening for him.
    She heard the rustle of sheets, a stifled curse. He’d gone to bed ? After telling her he had work to do? And wasn’t this kind of his workday?
    Again she thought, Typical male.
    Wait. Had he just . . . groaned?

    I’m never going to sleep with this erection.
    Though Lothaire was exhausted, it throbbed for relief, impossible to ignore. He couldn’t turn on his front without grinding his shaft into the mattress, couldn’t turn on his back without his hands descending to masturbate his length.
    But he’d be damned if he spilled alone when he was in possession of his Bride.
    His eyes narrowed when the mortal knelt at their shared doorway. Finished shrieking and throwing things, Elizabeth? He could hear her light breaths panting at the crack under the door.
    She spied on him ? Lothaire was a master at spying, enjoyed few things more.
    Over his long lifetime, he’d watched countless beings having sex, was an unabashed voyeur. And he’d noted that every time a couple neared release, they reached a point of no return when all sense and inhibitions were lost, a point past which nothing could pull them apart.
    Lothaire himself had never been unaware of what he was doing, nor unable to stop himself.
    Now he feared that if he neared climax tonight, he’d cross a line, tossing Elizabeth into his bed. He’d strip her naked and bury his cock and fangs so deep in her, he wouldn’t know where she ended and he began. . . .
    No. I will not lower myself to a mortal.
    Lothaire could wait for Saroya to rise tomorrow night. He would wait, he swore to himself, even as his mind whispered, She’s not