Chapter 276
They followed Wolfe back the way they'd come. Katelina didn't feel relief until they reached the stronghold's lowest public floor.
Wolfe didn't step out of the elevator. "You are free to do as you please. The Kugsankal wishes for you to remain the day. You may go back to the United States tomorrow. I will have the honor of accompanying you, to deliver the Kugsankal 's message to your High Council. If you require anything in the meantime, you have only to ask for it."
He left without telling them exactly who they should ask, but it didn't matter. The only thing Katelina wanted was to go home.
Jorick made an irritated sound in his throat. "At the moment, our room is as close as we can get. Come, little one."
Katelina and Jorick made their way back to their room. Housekeeping had come and gone, and she almost felt guilty when she threw herself on the neatly made bed.
Jorick kicked off his shoes and stretched out beside her. "It wasn't as terrible as you imagined?"
"I feel like it should have been. I know they were inside my head, looking at everything, but it was too fast to be terrible. It wasn't like Malick, where he took me on a slow stroll through my memories. They just dived in, read it all in a moment and dismissed me." She absently picked at the bedspread. "Did they speak out loud to you or was it just-" she trailed off in search of the word.
"Silent? No, no one spoke out loud. I've heard legends of old ones who don't speak. Some say they got so used to the telepathic conversations that they've lost the ability or forgotten how, while others insist it's a matter of convenience. Talking takes more effort than thinking."
She tilted her head and studied him. "Did they talk to you telepathically?"
Jorick cleared his throat uncomfortably and his eyes dropped to her fingers, still plucking at the bedspread. "Yes."
Something about his expression triggered alarm bells in her head. "What did they say?"
"I imagine the same as they said to you." He caught her hand and traced her knuckles with his thumb. "It's over now, and Malick is their problem."
"Is he?" The same sick fear she'd had since the attack welled up again, like chronic heartburn. Would Jorick really stand aside and let someone else hunt down his master?
"Yes. I have more important things to worry about." His tone turned teasing as he nuzzled her ear. "Like trying to make sure you don't accidentally kill yourself. That takes a lot of effort."
A sarcastic reply rose to her lips, but he drowned it with a burning kiss. She held out for a moment, just to show him she had some control, and then relented. Her body softened against his. She parted her lips to give him better access, and his tongue swept into her mouth. It tasted hot and vaguely coppery, like a sun warmed penny. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, plunging his tongue deeper.
A soft moan escaped her lips and she arched into him. Her breasts flattened out against his hard chest. He tangled his fingers in her long golden hair and his other hand played up and down her side, teasing her through her clothes. Memories of the Kugsankal and Jorick's trepidation disappeared with his touch. There was only the two of them, limbs tangled and hot tongues parrying. No one else mattered.
She wanted his hands on her skin, and broke the kiss to peel off her sweater. She started to pull him to her again, but he resisted. A question hung in her eyes and was answered when he unfastened her bra. He slid the lacy straps down over her arms and threw the undergarment to the floor. Her breasts hung heavy, the nipples hardening with exposure and desire. He cupped them in his smooth hands. His thumb traced invisible patterns over the firm curves, and then dropped away so his tongue could take over.
Katelina moaned his name softly and clutched his broad shoulders. The muscles were tight and taut as he held himself up. She wadded his shirt in her impatient hands, eager to feel his naked back. He leaned away long enough to yank his pullover off and then he was back. He traced fiery kisses from her breasts to her collarbone and lingered over the scar of her mark. She tensed expectantly. Though they would have physical sex, his bite was the true consummation of their passion. He would take some of her blood and in return he would give her wave after wave of unequalled pleasure. It was what made humans addicted to vampires.
Addicted. The word flickered through her mind on the heels of another. For a moment she didn't care about the rest of it; the touches, the kisses, his naked skin. She just wanted him to bite her, surround her, fill her mind as no one else ever could.
His lips moved away, over her shoulder, to her breasts and then to her stomach. She wriggled impatiently and tried to tug him back, but he was immovable, like the smooth marble he so resembled. He kissed his way over the jagged scar on her abdomen, pausing only to unfasten her jeans and cast them aside.
His mouth dropped lower, over her belly button and past the soft curls between her thighs, until he found her pulsing center. She moaned and opened her legs, welcoming his steamy kisses and sobbing for more. The tight ache started in her core and radiated outward. She didn't want more, she needed more. She needed him. All of him.
She broke away to grab his shoulders and roll him over. He didn't resist this time. When he was flat on his back, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged them away. She ran first her eyes and then her hands over the perfect pale expanse of his body. Her fingers traced the shallow valleys and hills of his muscles. She straddled him and brought her lips to his chest. His erection pressed against her thigh and her hips involuntarily slid back and forth, grinding against him. His groan was soft, guttural, and he caught her hips and tried to move her into position. She pulled loose and met his eyes. Deep and warm, like a summer night, she lost herself in the steady, lust tinted gaze. A smile curved her lips as she realized the lust was for her.
She gripped his manhood and lowered herself over it, slowly engulfing him. When he was fully buried in her, she paused to catch his eyes again. The spark of wanting still glittered in their depths but, before she could tease it brighter, he took her hips and thrust her back and forth, bucking up to meet her. He let go and she continued the rhythm herself, palms flat on his chest, her heart thundering in her ears.
He ran his hands up her arms, to her shoulders. He traced her mark with his fingertips, teasing the delicate scar. His hungry eyes fastened on it, and he licked his lips. She imagined him biting her; his teeth sinking into her the same way his thick hardness filled her, and the fire of overwhelming need consumed her again.
Jorick propped himself up on one arm, his other cupped around her backside to keep her from falling off. His lips pulled back from his fangs and she leaned into him eagerly, still thrusting her hips. His breath brushed across her skin and tingles of excitement ran through her. She clutched his shoulders and whimpered, trying to force herself into his mouth. All coherent thought fled. She wanted. She needed. Now.
She felt him shudder and then, he bit. The pain lasted only a second, to be replaced by the lapping pleasure. It radiated in waves through her but, rather than quenching her desire, it only fueled it. Her throat burned with thirst, and she dug her nails into his skin, grinding, thrusting, harder, faster. His pale shoulder gleamed and a voice in her mind screamed at her to bite him, to taste him, to drink him as he drank her.
She didn't bother to think, only obeyed. His skin was taut beneath her teeth and she bit harder. The first salty drops blossomed, touched her tongue and made her crave more. More. More.
She fastened her lips around his shoulder, unaware of anything but the screaming force inside her, driving her on. Images flashed behind her eyes, voices, sounds, words she couldn't catch, half felt emotions. Wrapped around it all was him. He was everywhere; inside her, outside her, in her mind, in her mouth, in her body, in her veins. They were one. Connected. Intertwined. Inseparable.
It might have been five minutes or five hours before her orgasm crashed over her. She cried out involuntarily, releasing his shoulder. He followed a moment later with a thrusting spasm. He dropped to the bed and she folded on herself and fluttered down to lay on his chest, like an exhausted butterfly.
He stroked her hair back from her face and tangled his fingers in the tresses. The world slowly came into focus. His heart beat in her ear and she could feel his chest rise and fall with his fast, heavy breaths. His fingers danced over her face, the curve of her cheek, her shoulder, and lingered over the mark. He brought them away and she looked to see that crimson dotted the tips. He glanced at her, then licked it from his fingers with a half apologetic look.
She closed her eyes, still not sure how she felt about it. She could taste him on her tongue and, though she didn't remember doing it, she knew she'd bitten him again. She remembered her initial revulsion and embarrassment when she'd discovered what she was doing, though he acted as if it was perfectly normal. And maybe it was. She didn't know what was normal anymore.
She tilted her face to his and met his dark eyes. She might not know what was normal, but she knew one thing. As long as she was safe in the circle of his arms, nothing else mattered.
