Bonded by Blood

chapter ELEVEN

A FEW MINUTES before seven, Mackenzie stood in front of the heavy steel entry door of Dom’s loft. She took a deep breath to quiet her pounding heart, but it ignored her and raged on.

After yesterday’s impetuous decision to have dinner with Dom, she wasn’t sure whether to kick herself for being swept away by his charm or congratulate herself for following Martin’s advice to live in the moment. Either way, she was nervous standing here, wondering what was in store for her on the other side of the door.

Could she do it? Have sex with someone she hardly knew? Of course, she could be wrong. It was entirely possible that he intended only to cook dinner for her. But she wasn’t a total fool. As she’d lain in bed last night, trying without much success to fall asleep, she’d decided she had to expect it could come to that. Dinner at a restaurant would be one thing, but dinner at his place was a whole different scenario.

Shifting the bottle of wine to her other hand, she checked her bag, making sure her overnight items were tucked safely at the bottom. Not sure if it was customary to spend the night after a one-night stand, she’d brought a few things just in case. And if nothing happened, well, at least she’d come prepared.

She straightened her spine and rang the bell.

Mackenzie thought she was prepared to see Dom this time. She willed herself to be strong, calm and focused. They were just two people who were going to have dinner together. But she forgot all that when the door swung open.

Barefoot, with an untucked shirt and jeans, Dom stood casually enough in the doorway, a dish towel tossed carelessly over a shoulder and his hair pulled loosely into a ponytail, but his unpolished attire only heightened his unorchestrated sexuality.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of a thing to say; her eyes seemed to be the only body part functioning.

He wore a stack of black leather bracelets on one wrist, with those ornately carved rings she’d noticed before on each thumb, and when he reached for her to invite her in, her mouth felt as if it had been swabbed with a giant ball of cotton. The only way he could look any better was if he were naked and her hands were exploring his body. A rush of heat rose to her face and she averted her gaze for a moment in an attempt to collect herself.

“Welcome back.” He dipped his head, touching his lips to her cheek, then shut the door behind her.

Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the warm scent of his cologne. She felt her body arch toward him, wanting the smell to stay as concentrated as possible in her lungs. Normally she didn’t care for a man’s potent aftershave but his was heavenly, almost addictive. She thrust the wine bottle into his hands.

“Thank you.” His eyes raked her up and down then crinkled at the corners. “You look great. We’re a matched pair.”

She glanced at her lacy brown cardigan and smoothed down the fabric of her colorful dress. It coordinated perfectly with his chocolate brown shirt. She liked the way that sounded—a matched pair—and smiled up at him. “Thanks. We must be on the same wavelength tonight.”

“Yes, there does seem to be an uncanny connection between us.” He paused and a shiver of excitement prickled her skin. “How was parking? I hope you used my building valet.”

“I…uh…had to take a cab. It’s raining and I didn’t want to drive the motorcycle.”

“Do you not own a sedan? Is the Triumph your only mode of transportation?”

“It is right now. My mother’s car is in the repair shop.” She liked that he referred to her— “How did you know I drive a Triumph?”

Something flashed across his expression then was gone.

“Bonneville. I saw it parked outside the art school and assumed it was yours. A woman like you on a Bonnie is hard to forget.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she smiled and looked around as he ushered her inside. Her gaze fell to an ethereal blown-glass sculpture, lit from above, displayed magnificently on a wooden stand near the windows. How could she have missed that vibrant yellow color and the unmistakable fluted shape when she was here last week?

“Oh my God. Is that a Chihuly? Is it new? I’d have noticed it before.” Without waiting for him, she walked through the living room and stopped a few feet away.

“His work is unmistakable, isn’t it?” he said, approaching from behind. “No, it’s not new. I purchased the piece almost five years ago, right after I moved to Seattle. It was in my office, but I moved it here because I thought you’d enjoy seeing it. You can get closer to it. It won’t bite, I promise.”

She laughed. “Trust me. Breakables and I don’t mix. This is as close as I get.”

“Well, then sit here and admire it while I finish a few things in the kitchen. Can I get you a glass of wine? Red or white?”

“White, but let me help. I’m not much of a cook, but I can chop, stir, whisk and I’m pretty good at tasting.”

“Good. I need help with all of the above.”

He touched the small of her back, guiding her to an upholstered bar stool at the kitchen counter. Even through her clothing, his hand felt heavy and warm.

He grabbed a bottle of wine and with a few twists, it was uncorked, two glasses were filled and he was offering one to her. A small cutting board with an onion and a knife sat just out of reach on the counter.

“Can you slide that over? Do you want it chopped in little pieces or in slices?”

A strange expression flashed across his face before he smiled. “No knives for you. Is peeling in your repertoire? You can peel a few carrots, if you’d like.”

“Funny you should ask, because I happen to be an expert.”

He handed her a vegetable peeler, several carrots, and a bowl for scraps. With his fingers tucked under like a professional chef, he began to chop the onion with the speed and precision of someone who did it for a living.

“How long have you worked as a location scout? How did you get the job?”

“I’ve been working on and off for Steve about six years now. He and my father were friends. After my father…” She cleared her throat and started peeling. “When he died, my mother eventually moved us up here and he hired me part-time because he knew I liked photography.”

“Your father—how long has he been gone?”

“He passed away when I was a kid.”

“So it’s just you and your mother?”

“And my brother, Corey.”

He retrieved a sautй pan from a lower cabinet, drizzled in some oil and set it on a burner. “Does he work for your father’s friend as well?”

“No, just me. Corey’s in college and it’s probably best if he doesn’t have to concentrate on a job till school’s over.”

“You’ve been working as a location scout for several years, then. You must enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I guess. I get to see lots of beautiful places I might not otherwise have seen.”

He raised an eyebrow and leveled her with a serious look. “You don’t say that with much conviction. Would you rather be doing something else?”

She smiled at his perception. “No, I do enjoy it. The photography part, but I’m always keeping my options open.”

“And the art school?”

“Love it.” She finished her wine and started peeling another carrot. She considered telling him what really made her excited. What she really wanted to do. But then, what would be the point if she didn’t see him after tonight?

“What did you get your degree in?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you said you knew Martin through university.”

He remembered all that from the—?

Damn.

The vegetable peeler slipped, slicing her forefinger instead of the carrot. She hissed a breath through her teeth as a small bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the counter. Dom was there almost before the stinging pain registered in her brain, grabbing her hand and cupping it gently in his. A strange tingling sensation moved up her arm. The cut wasn’t deep enough to be numb, was it?

“Are you all right?” Another drop of blood trickled from her finger, but onto his hand this time.

She pulled away quickly. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Do you have a paper towel or something? Here, let me clean this up.”

Ignoring her request, he grasped her elbow and swept her around the island to the kitchen faucet. His arms went around her, his muscular biceps encasing her, and he pushed her hand under the stream of water. Every inch of her back, from her shoulders to her buttocks, was pressed to the muscular plane of his warm torso and she felt his warm breath in her hair.

“Hold your finger under the cold water. Yes, like that. I’ll get a bandage from—”

“No, really. I’m fine.” She put her finger in her mouth and cranked her head up to look at him. In this light, the blue of his eyes looked a little darker. “See? It’s no big deal.” But when she pulled it out, the blood oozed again.

In less than a heartbeat, he sucked her finger between his lips, and the breath stalled in her throat. Oh my Lord. His mouth was hot and when his tongue slid against the pad of her finger, she shivered, a delicious heat pooling low in her belly. Teeth grazed against—

Suddenly he pulled away from her and strode out of the kitchen. “It needs a bandage,” he called gruffly over his shoulder, his steps heavy on the wood floor as if he were eager to get away.

Out of breath, she held her hand to her chest, her finger still moist from his mouth. She heard a door slam shut somewhere down the hallway. Leaning against the counter, she closed her eyes. What just happened?

“Better?”

She jumped, hadn’t heard him return. “Um, yeah. It doesn’t sting any longer and it’s…a…a… I can’t even see it.”

“Let me put a bandage on it just to be safe.” He took her back to her seat and a piece of damp hair hung in his face as he concentrated on her finger. Sweat? She looked at him more closely. No, she didn’t think so. Water, maybe.

“So where were we?” He returned to the other side of the island, refilled her wineglass, and began sautйing the onions. “Oh yes, you were just about to tell me why you didn’t get your degree.”

It took her a few moments to collect her thoughts. Her need to keep things shallow and less emotional didn’t seem to be as important as it usually was.

“My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when I was in college and she had to be moved into a special facility. I quit school to care for my brother, who was still in high school, and because the money earmarked for college was needed for Mom now.”

“How was there money for him to go to college and not you?”

Okay, he’s much too perceptive. She wasn’t ready for this. But how would he understand? How could anyone really understand? She let out a long slow breath and stared into her glass. Holding it by the stem, she tilted it slightly and watched as the wine clung to the inside, seeping back down in narrow rivulets. “It’s sort of complicated and a really long story.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“It probably won’t make sense to you.”

“I’m also fairly intelligent. Sorry if you hadn’t noticed.” One side of his mouth turned up as if to encourage her.

“Well, then you really won’t understand. All the academic types think it’s nonsense.”

“I didn’t say I was an academic type.”

She shuffled through her thoughts, a little muddled from the wine, searching for that little nugget to satisfy his curiosity in order for them to move on to something else. Anything else. This just wasn’t the topic of conversation for a first date. And way too deep for a one-nighter.

She took a bigger sip this time. The wine warmed the back of her tongue and slid down her throat. “My family—” oh, what the hell “—I told you my father died, right? Well, he went out one evening and never came back. I was ten years old at the time.”

“He ran out on you?” Dom looked up from the stove.

“No. That’s what everyone thinks, including the police. But they found his wallet, his car, his credit cards, his money. The only thing missing was his driver’s license. He just disappeared that day. Never came home.”

Dom was quiet for a moment, probably wishing he’d never asked about all this in the first place. It made most people uncomfortable. She knew that. That’s why she hardly ever spoke about it. So why were they talking about it now?

“How long have you—” She tried to change the subject, to save him the trouble, but he interrupted with more questions.

“So what does that have to do with you having to quit school when there’s money for your brother to attend?”

“That’s where it gets really complicated. Why don’t we talk about something simple and non-depressing, like what you’re fixing for dinner.”

“Salmon. Now please continue. I’d like to hear more.”

He reached a hand out and touched hers. His eyes, though piercing, had a kindness behind them, prompting her to say more than she might have otherwise.

“My father’s disappearance is just one of many in my family. It’s happened in each generation for as long as we’ve been keeping track…hundreds of years. My cousin was the latest to disappear last year.”

“What do you think is going on?” He returned to the stove, his voice stilted, almost robotic. Way too much information. She needed to back it down.

“I don’t know.” She studied his profile and watched as his jaw muscle flexed over and over, as if he were chewing on his thoughts, and he twisted one of his thumb rings with a forefinger. Why had she felt compelled to tell him? He was clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. I should never have shared all this with you. Maybe I should just—”

“No.” He said it with such force that it jerked her head up. “I really want to know more. You think your father’s fate awaits you, don’t you? And that’s why you really quit school.”

Oh God. He got it. He really understood.

He gave her the kind of smile that made her ache inside. “I…I suppose so. Why waste the money? College represents the future, so with Mom’s illness and Stacy going missing, I decided to stop fooling myself and get realistic. I know that must sound terribly pessimistic to you.”

“Not at all. You’re just living the best way you know how within the framework you were given. But your brother obviously doesn’t feel the same way.”

“My brother? Corey is one of those people who doesn’t worry about much. All the weed, I guess.”

“Maybe he smokes to drown out the worry.”

“Could be.”

“And your mother. She’s been through a lot, too, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she sure has. My whole life she’s been a worrier. She let her guard down, thinking my father had escaped the curse when he reached his forties, and finally agreed to his job transfer to San Diego. Six months later he disappeared.”

“And your mother determined it was the move to the big city, right?” His voice was faraway, distant.

It was like they really were on the same wavelength or something.

He stared out over her shoulder, his eyes dark and unfocused now, and a spot at the base of his jaw pulsed. A strange rush of heat, starting at her toes, ran up the length of her body.

She felt as if she wanted to punch something. She was pissed off. No. More than that. It was fury she was feeling.

What the hell? And then just as quickly, the feeling faded away.

“Yeah,” she said. “Got complacent, my mother said. She took paranoia to the nth degree after that because she worried that the same thing could happen to Corey or me. We moved around to many small towns in Washington and Oregon. We were in the Seattle area when Mom got her diagnosis, so we decided to settle here.”

He assembled everything on a large wooden tray, then reached for her hand. “How’s your finger? Let me see it.”

“It’s fine.” She kept it in her lap. “Did you know I don’t like it when people fuss over me?”

“Yes, I assumed that.”

“So why all the fuss?”

He stared at her, unblinking. “When you are here, I take care of you.”

To be taken care of by anyone was such a foreign concept. “I don’t need anyone’s help doing anything, you know, but I appreciate the concern.” The words came out quiet and half-hearted even though it had been her motto for as long as she could remember. The ache beneath her ribs widened. Being here with Dom overemphasized what she’d never have in her life.

Enough.

She flipped that familiar mental switch and smiled. “I know you can’t say much, but whereabouts are your offices in Canada located? You said British Columbia. Vancouver? Victoria?”

Not answering right away, he sprinkled some nuts into a skillet and flicked them into the air with a turn of his wrist. Yeah, he was the kind of cook who liked an audience. And she was the kind of person who loved to watch. After drizzling some olive oil into a shallow wooden salad bowl, he poured in a small amount of dark liquid from a small bottle with foreign writing and began to whisk the contents together.

“Our region headquarters are in the Horseshoe Bay area. Do you know where that is?”

Her hands flew to her throat. Did she know where that was? “Oh my God, yes. On the way to Whistler Mountain, right? The Ski-to-Sky Highway? Wait. Sky-to-Ski.”

“It’s the Sea-to-Sky Highway from Vancouver to Whistler, winding along Horseshoe Bay and Howe Sound.”

“That drive is breathtaking.”

“So you’ve been there?”

“A few times. But it’s been ages. It’s one of those places that’s so stunning—” she put a hand over her heart “—so moving, you have to pinch yourself to believe that it’s real. That your eyes are actually taking in something so incredible.”

When she looked up, he had set the bowl down and was staring at her. Oh, great. Why was she always doing this around him? Giving him a dramatic play-by-play of how she saw things. He had to think she was much too emotional. Too sensitive. What was it about him that loosened the tight strings holding her together? Normally, she had better control than this.

“Sorry, I’m not usually this expressive.”

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Never be ashamed of your emotions around me. I’ll have to take you up there sometime. I know of places you’ve probably never seen before.”

“Oh. I’d love that.” Something gripped her heart and squeezed. Do not get attached to him.

She sat taller on the stool and flicked her hair behind her shoulder. A current of something tangible shimmered in the air around them. Like she could reach forward and strum it with her fingers.

She only spoke again when she thought she could trust her voice. “So, what’s the nature of your work?”

“About all I can say is that it’s in the law enforcement field.”

“That’s a pretty broad brushstroke. Is it dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Some risks are worth taking.”

DOM OPENED THE first door in the hallway and mounted the stairs two at a time, his hand at her back.

This is what it feels like when a human man escorts his woman to dinner. Even with everything stripped away, when they were ordinary, they seemed to fit together. He pushed open the heavy steel door at the top and they stepped out onto the rooftop garden. She gasped and her eyes widened as she craned her neck to see everything.

“Oh my gosh, Dom. It’s…amazing.”

Candlelight from the chandelier hanging beneath the trellis danced in her eyes. If he hadn’t made that regrettable promise to her back at the art studio, he’d have pulled her into his arms right now. Instead, he turned to get the salads, but she stopped him with a light hand on his wrist.

“Thank you.” She lifted her chin to him, her green eyes fiery in the warm glow from the chandelier. Were his mirroring the same passion?

“For what? You haven’t even tried the food yet.”

“For everything. Just in case I forget to tell you later.”

He swept four fingers under her jawline. She was delicate, yet so strong. Oh, how he wanted to place his lips there.

His erection surged, straining against the seam of his jeans, and his palate throbbed as the tips of his fangs began to protrude. He quickly turned away and stepped behind her. Grabbing at the leather band around his wrist, he grimaced as he cranked the buckle tighter, the metal barbs of the cilice digging farther into his skin.

Holy shit. Chuck hadn’t been kidding when he’d said this thing stung like a sonofabitch.

Sweat beaded on his upper lip as his body acclimated to the higher level of pain. He took a few halting steps toward the outdoor kitchen, grabbed a towel and dabbed at the thin trickle of blood running down his forearm. Chuck had told him he used one of these ancient self-torture devices to control his own feeding urges when he’d first married Shirl and met her large family. The pain it caused diverted his attention away from the blood desire. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. Smooth again. He managed to set a couple of salmon steaks on the hot grill and returned to the table with the salads.

Mackenzie’s eyes narrowed to slits. She sensed his pain. Of course she did. But he couldn’t take the damn thing off, that was for sure. He wouldn’t dare take that chance. He flashed what he hoped was a distracting smile and sat down.

“How about you tell me your happiest memory?” Now it was time to keep himself diverted.

“Only if you will, too.”

He nodded.

“Okay, let me think.” She speared a large bite of salad and chewed. He liked that she not only ate—he’d been with plenty of women who didn’t—but that she did so with gusto. She put a finger up to indicate she must have come up with a story. Before she finished chewing, she began to speak, as if she didn’t start now, she’d forget what she was going to say.

As she recalled a visit to an amusement park, her eyes flashed with excitement. “My dad carried me around on his shoulders all day, hunting down every storybook character for my autograph book.”

God, he loved the musical quality of her voice and her enthusiasm for just about anything. He could listen to her forever as she talked about purple toucans, fairy princesses, hot buttery corn and caramel apples.

“Do you still have it? The autograph book?”

The night turned suddenly quiet and she picked at her salad. “Yeah, I do,” she said softly.

What had just happened? Why was she sad? “I’m sorry. Seems I have a knack for asking tough questions.”

“No, not at all. It’s just that I made my dad sign the last page before we left the park. Several days later was when he disappeared. That autograph book is kind of special, that’s all.” For several beats of her heart, her eyes had a melancholy, faraway look, but when she lifted her chin a moment later and smiled at him, her expression was warm and inviting again. “I guess I’ve had a bit of sadness in my life. I just hope I don’t come across as depressing or morbid. I try not to think about the past too much and dwell on things I have no control over.”

“You couldn’t be morbid or depressing if you tried.” He stared at her for a moment longer, wanted to comfort her, to draw her into his arms, but he didn’t because of that damn promise. Instead, he rose from the table and returned with their dinner plates.

“Okay, your turn,” she said as she flaked off a piece of fish.

He shoved the food around on his plate. She never thought about the past and that’s all he could think about. “Mine involves my family, too. My mother.”

Mackenzie angled toward him on the settee and he felt himself moving slightly toward her, as well. Her knee brushed his leg and she left it there. He was careful not to move and break the contact when he began to speak.

“I grew up in Europe and we traveled a lot, as well, given my father’s occupation. He was a politician of sorts. One night—day, I mean, when the Council was in session, my mother took us to a small art gallery in the plaza. Many artists had taken up residence in Paris at the time.”

“Oh, like who?”

Shit. Of course she knows art history. He couldn’t very well name any of the 19th-century artists his mother knew, some of whom Mackenzie most certainly would be familiar with.

“Nobody famous. She, like you, loved the whole atmosphere of creativity, although she didn’t have artistic talent as you do. When we went into the gallery, an old man with a terribly crooked spine swept my mother into his arms and twirled her around the room. He was so fragile-looking, I wouldn’t have believed he could move that way. My mother laughed and I can remember dancing around the room with them. Turns out she had posed for him and the painting sold for quite a large sum of money. It was a nude.” He ran the backs of his fingers over her arm and thought he felt her tremble.

“And your father…he was all right with your mother posing nude for someone?”

“Yes. Although my father was a very jealous man, the old man was a dear family friend, very talented, but very poor. He refused to take any monetary help from my father. So he and my mother came up with the idea of her posing for him. He was known for— He made enough money to barely scrape by with his paintings at the time, but at least my parents felt they were helping.”

“You said ‘we.’ Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I have a sister who lives in the UK. But it was my brother who was with me at the gallery.”

“And where does he live?”

“I don’t know. We are not…close.”

“I’m sorry. When did you last see him?”

His chest tightened, an iron fist squeezed his heart into a ball. “Many, many years ago.”

She clasped both of his hands and brought his fingers to her lips as if she were trying to take away his pain. “And your parents? Where are they?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They died a long time ago.”

A gentle caressing of energy passed from her hands to his and the knot in his chest, which bunched up whenever he thought about his parents, actually loosened a bit. When he looked down into her eyes, it wasn’t pity he saw, but understanding.

Her thoughts whispered inside his head as she wrapped her arms around him, soaking up his sorrow with every whirling stroke of her hand against his back. He held on to her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing the coconut smell of her shampoo. Unlike him, with his probing questions, she said nothing, and he felt like a lumbering bastard.

In a span of time that seemed to pass as quickly as a dozen human heartbeats, powerful in its simplicity, yet way too fleeting, they finished their dinners and started in on a second bottle of Voignier. If her empty plate was any indication, Mackenzie had thoroughly enjoyed what Dom prepared for her. He rested his chin in his hand and watched, enthralled, as she took another piece of bread and swept up the remaining sauce from her plate. She licked a stray crumb from her lips and her eyelids fluttered shut while she slowly chewed, as if she were committing the taste to memory.

“I hope you’re not too full for dessert,” he said.

“Never. I always have room for something sweet.” Her eyes held his for a moment before her cheeks colored that enchanting shade again and she looked away.

He returned a moment later with one plate and an enormous piece of coconut cream pie.

“No, you didn’t,” she gasped. Was she surprised he’d heard her say she loved coconut? Or that he remembered? “I must be in heaven. Did you make it?”

“I picked it up from Tom Douglas’s restaurant.”

“This is his triple coconut cream pie? I’ve heard how good it is, but I’ve never actually had it myself.” She dug into the thick cream and moaned when she pulled the empty tines from her lips. The sound she’d made was almost identical to the one she made when she came against his fingers that night at the auction. Dom shifted in his seat to make a little more room in his jeans.

“Are you not having any?” Whipped cream lingered on her lips.

“No, I don’t do sweet. Not usually.”

“You mean you got this just for me?”

He nodded.

“Oh, but you have to just try it.”

He hated coconut. Always had, or at least he’d thought he did until tonight. Taking the same fork, she sectioned off a huge piece and lifted it to his lips.

“Holy Christ, that’s way too big.”

“Just wait. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

When he opened his mouth, she opened hers, mirroring his actions as though she were experiencing the bite along with him. He closed his lips over the creamy filling and she slowly pulled out the fork.

Candlelight sparkled in her widened eyes as she leaned in close for his reaction, probably oblivious to the fact that her breast pressed against his arm. “Amazing, am I right? I am, aren’t I?”

The filling was rich and the crust was flaky, tinged with coconut, as well. He mumbled his agreement and had to admit it was pretty good. For a diehard aficionado, this pie must be the pinnacle. When she offered him another bite, he started to lift a hand in protest, but she got so much enjoyment feeding him, he wanted to continue to be a part of it. No, it was more than that. He wanted to be the cause.

He wasn’t expecting her kiss. She leaned over so quickly, he had no time to prepare himself, no time to double-check that his deadly instincts were still safely tucked away. With his mouth clamped shut, he ran his tongue over his palette. Nothing. So he softened his lips and kissed her back.

“Thank you for this.” Her words rumbled against him. He wasn’t sure if she meant the dessert or the kiss. “You taste delicious.”

All day, all evening, he’d been hoping she’d touch him first, kiss him first. He wanted any contact to be on her terms, and now they were. He cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand, held her lips close to his, her tongue sticky and sweet.

When she sidled closer and a tiny moan from her throat vibrated against his lips, it was the only encouragement he needed. In one swift movement, he pulled her on top of his lap and kicked the settee backwards. Dishes clattered as her behind clipped the edge of the table. He didn’t care that glasses were broken, that wine was spilled.

From her gasp, he knew he had startled her, but she slipped her hands up over his chest and twirled a length of hair loosened from his ponytail, her breath warm against his cheek. With every ounce of willpower, he waited until she dipped her head to his again. He didn’t want her to regret any of what was going to happen. He wanted—no—needed for her to come to him willingly, of her own accord. His mouth hungrily met hers as she tugged at the thin leather tie at his nape, spilling his hair to his shoulders.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” Her fingers dug into his hair.

And the beast inside him roared.

He cupped her bottom, yanked her hips forward against the stiffened erection straining beneath the fabric of his jeans and moved against her core. She arched her back and pressed her breasts to him. When he grasped the zipper at the back of her dress, he paused one last time which surprised him. Normally at this point, it would be all about f*cking, pushing himself into the female fast and hard. The fact that he hesitated shocked the hell out of him. He cared about Mackenzie, what she thought now, whether she was completely ready for this, and he cared about what she’d think tomorrow and next week.

Her half-closed eyes were heavy with passion and she clutched at his shirt, maybe a little desperately. Oh God, he hoped so, because he was certainly desperate for her. He pulled the zipper down slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, but she didn’t. It slid past her shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, down to her waist, where it stopped at the small of her back. The straps fell of their own accord, baring her skin to him, and he ran a thumb over her delicate collarbone. Her pulse vibrated at the base of her neck and called out a sweet invitation just inches from his deadly smile.

No, I will take her as a man only.

With a flick of his wrist, her dress was gone and she shimmied out of her tights. Glorious, she straddled his lap, naked except for the thin meaningless triangle of her thong. Although he’d seen her without clothes before, this time was different. This time she was naked for him.

“God, you are so beautiful, Mackenzie. So very perfect.” Her breasts sat in his hands, neither too large nor too small, and he marveled at the softness of her porcelain skin as she trembled beneath his touch.

“I’ll bet you say that to all your honeys. Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“I have never told that to another woman.” When she lifted her eyebrow he added, “I speak the truth, whether you believe me or not. I do not lie.” About that.

His palate ached, his canines threatened to elongate, but he was ready for his body’s automatic reaction. He ran a precautionary hand around the leather band at his wrist. Although the barbs had poked into his skin all evening, the movement jostled and reopened the tiny wounds. He stifled a hiss and his primitive instincts were again consumed and dulled by the searing pain rather than by taking her blood.

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his face, no doubt trying to figure out what just happened. Of course she sensed what he was feeling, although she couldn’t have known how or why. “Is something wrong? I…I… Are you okay? I’ve got the strangest sensation that you…” She had been unbuttoning his shirt but stopped.

“Shhh. Don’t worry. I am more than fine. Much more.”

When he took her nipple into his mouth and ran a thumb over the other one, he heard the ragged hitch of her breath. He circled his tongue against the delicate flesh already peaked from the cool night air and coaxed them both to even greater stiffness.

It was too cold for her to be unclothed like this, and his impatient sex would stay imprisoned no longer. With a grunt, he stood up, her legs clutched around his waist, and he carried her to the large canopied lounge and covered them with a down blanket.

He smelled her desire, stunned by its sweetness. It seemed to wrap around him, drawing him closer, pulling him in. Although he was familiar with women’s passions, this was much different, deeper, as if she called to him on another dimension.

He wedged a knee between her thighs and shoved them open. As he went to push the fabric of her thong aside, she grabbed his wrist.

“Wait. This has been all about me. Now and at the auction. It’s your turn. I want you. To feel you in my mouth, to know your taste.”

Sweet Jesus. Only a fool would turn down such an offer, but he honestly didn’t know what he wanted to feel more—her lips or her body molding around him.

She pushed him onto his back and he watched as she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them over his hips. When she reached for his shirt, he shrugged her away and tore it off himself.

Her hands splayed over his pecs, her soft curls swept his chest as she inched lower and lower. He strained against the powerful urge to take control. God, how he wanted her. Needed her. And like hell he was going to wait—

He raised his head from the cushion, made a move to roll her over, but she flashed him a dark look.

“Down,” she ordered.

A moan—almost a growl—started deep inside and rumbled in his chest. He wasn’t used to waiting for what he wanted. She continued to glare, daring him to move again, before she settled herself between his legs. Her fingers trailed up and down his belly, teasing him, tormenting him, her touch so light that it numbed his skin.

He balled up bunches of the blanket in each fist in an attempt to anchor himself to the lounge. Would she at least let him watch her lips stretch over his sex as she took him in? He propped himself up on one elbow, but she gave him that warning look again.

“All right,” he laughed. “I’ll be good this time.”

“I certainly hope so.”

He trained his eyes on the inside of the lounge canopy instead, the city lights, the stars—seeing everything and nothing at the same time. He was powerless against her and shook with anticipation as he waited for her to continue.

She moved lower underneath the down blanket, her lips and hair whispered against his skin until she finally reached him. He expected to feel the warmth of her mouth and nudged his hips to push inside, but again she held him down.

Spreading his thighs a little roughly, she nestled in deeper between his legs, making herself comfortable. A thrill of anticipation shot through him. What a turn-on to have her handle him like this, like she was the one in charge. He tried his best to obey her this time and lay still. But when she suddenly pulled a ball from his loosened sac into her mouth, he couldn’t help himself. He arched his back, dug his heels into the mattress.

Oh God, oh God. Every nerve ending crackled and jumped as she sucked. At least she didn’t protest when he buried his hands in her hair. He was going to climax and she hadn’t even touched his erection yet.

A hot surge of energy, starting at his toes, coursed through his body as she released his balls and slipped her mouth over the head of his shaft, encasing him in warmth and wetness.

He wasn’t going to be able to stop and didn’t give a damn if people milling the streets in the city below could hear him. And they probably could.

HIS HANDS WARMED her cheeks and ears as he gently pulled her up. His enormous erection hit his belly with a slap as it fell from her mouth and her lips throbbed in the rhythm of her heartbeat.

“I need me in you. Now.” His voice was husky as he reached for his jeans.

“Don’t bother. I can’t get pregnant. Unless you’re worried about—”

“You don’t worry me. I was only thinking of you. You are safe with me.”

His hands were urgent and she let him roll her over. With the cushion warmed from his body, she settled against the pillows, and her heart pounded a symphony in her head. He climbed into the eager triangle of her legs and draped his large body over hers.

She had just dominated him, taken what she wanted, toyed with him like a brush against a canvas, and now it was his turn. She ran her hands over the bunching muscles of his shoulders and delighted in the musky fragrance of his skin. As if on cue, she felt another silky rush of pleasure to ease his entry.

Something nagged at the back of her mind. Her daydream. This was just like her daydream. His arms, his shoulders, her body’s response. Could it have been some sort of premonition? Before she could consider that further, his mouth came down hard over hers, stealing the breath from her lungs and any other thoughts from her mind.

“I love the taste of me on your tongue,” he said.

She held her breath as best she could, focused on the tip of his erection hovering at her center. She wanted to remember every sensation, every sound, every smell.

His hips flexed back to drive himself inside but before she could reach between them to move the thong aside and guide him in, his tip poked against the fabric and denied him access. With a grunt of frustration, he slid down her belly, grabbed the thong between his teeth, and ripped. But instead of coming back up to continue where he left off, he drew her knee over his shoulder, dipped his head to claim her.

Panting, shaking, she ran her fingers over his scalp, grabbed a fistful of dark strands and held on for support. His hair teased the inner skin of her thighs and his breath was hot as he buried his face in her tender folds. He slipped two fingers inside and moved them in the rhythm of his tongue.

Her release rushed to the surface, as if it had been waiting all night, which it had been, every muscle in her body clenched around the apex of his fingers. And for that moment, that splendid, celestial moment, it was the center of her universe.

When she was done, he pulled his face away, lips moist, eyes smoldering with desire. “You are like honey and now you’re ready for me.”

She could hardly keep from shaking. This was just the beginning. She gripped his powerful triceps, felt them flex as he reached a hand down to the junction between his legs. He palmed himself, rocked back, and his erection slid downward along her belly, searching for her. She waited, hardly able to breathe, as her folds surrounded the tip of his shaft, beckoning him inside. When he dropped his eyes to hers, she saw the desire in his face and knew it mirrored her own, but she saw something else, as well. Tiny lines creased his forehead, lines she hadn’t noticed before.

He was worried? About what? She responded by circling his legs with hers. Now was not the time for thinking; there’d be a time for that later. Now was only about this very moment, and this very moment she needed him.

Carefully and agonizingly slow, he pushed himself inside, sliding in through her body’s silky welcome. Oh dear God, he drove deeper and deeper until finally the hilt ground against her opening. Every pore flushed hot and the beautiful humming sound in her head lapped invisibly on the backs of her eyelids. Her climax rose without movement or friction, just from the feel of his overwhelming presence in her mind and body. Cleaving her in half, he stilled and she clung to him, wanting this to go on forever.

He looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise. “Is this okay? Are you okay?”

“God, yes.” She could hardly get the words out as her body adjusted to his girth, stretching and expanding around him.

There was an intensity in his expression, almost disbelief. With his eyes riveted to hers, she saw that his irises were completely black. She wasn’t frightened of him, though; she never had been, and now she understood. It was the look of longing, the ache of a hungry man. She wanted to be what he was searching for, whether it made sense or not.

He hooked an arm under her thigh and pressed himself a notch deeper. “And this? This is fine?”

“I’d say it’s more than a little fine.”

He made a few tentative thrusts. “This doesn’t hurt? You’re so…damn tight…around me. I’ve never—”

She dug her nails into the flesh of his backside, rolled her hips. “Oh God, Dom, I’m not going to break.”

That must’ve been the reaction he wanted because he slid himself outward, almost to the point of breaking their connection, the ridge of his sex rubbing against her now ultra-sensitive center. Her shallow breath zigzagged in her chest a few times before it lodged in her throat and waited.

Finally, with the corded muscles of his neck straining, he drove in hard and she cried out in blissful ecstasy. The friction. His thickness. His smell. Everything.

Over and over he pounded into her until the dark margins of her vision threatened to expand. It was as if her spirit soared in the updrafts of a wondrous wind, spiraling to the heavens with this man inside her body.

And then, on the verge of another orgasm, when all of her muscles began to convulse, he pushed impossibly deeper in one final powerful surge and the ridge of his tip locked into something at the very heart of her core. Into something she hadn’t known existed.

Her body clamped onto him like a vise and wouldn’t let go. Rearing his head to the night sky, Dom’s roar echoed through her body as if it was centered inside her. The scent of their lovemaking filled every fiber, every cell of her being. She wanted to swallow him up and never let go. In a blinding fury, his seed spilled into her, pulse after pulse, and shot them both into orbit.

DOM HELD MACKENZIE in his arms, stroking her hair, as she slept in his bed. With every breath she pulled into her lungs, he was lulled by the even rhythm of her chest against his and the sound of the air through her lips.

He was ashamed to admit to himself that before tonight, he had hoped a little fun between the sheets would break him of her, get her out of his system. It had always worked before. A little dinner. A lot of sex. Then goodbye.

His erection stirred again and he reached down to free it from between his legs. Good God, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her body. They’d made love several times already.

He should leave her alone, let her sleep, but he couldn’t. He slid his hand down the flat plane of her belly into the center of her small strip of curls and her legs opened for him. Heat spread out to his fingers and toes and a growl of pride rumbled in his chest. He loved that his presence affected her that way. That her body responded to him with or without her awareness. He slipped a finger inside her silky folds. Of course she was moist. His essence still lingered within her.

He massaged her flesh with his thumb and forefinger and felt the hum of her pleasure inside his head. With her eyes still closed, she hooked a leg over his and snuggled in close, moving her hips against him, forcing his fingers deeper. He was lost in her sweet smell again, and in the gentle sway of her naked body.

And then fangs broke through his gums.

His body stiffened in horror. How could he have let his guard down like this? He jerked his hand away from her, twisted the thick leather band on his other wrist, and suppressed a hiss. As the protruding spikes jostled the raw skin again and pain shot outward, the holes in his gums closed and his composure returned.

He ran a cautionary tongue over his teeth as the numbness from the cilice spread up his arm. He must never forget what he was capable of doing.

“Mmm, Dom,” she whispered against his neck. Did she sense his pain or was she protesting the sudden removal of his fingers?

He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled closer. She felt so perfect against him, so natural. Like a missing part had finally found home. He thought about what Lily had said about Enlazado por la Sangre. Could any of that really be true? If so, then he’d be able to transfer his energies to her. Should he try? Mackenzie was tired enough that perhaps she wouldn’t even notice anything.

When he sculpted his palm to her cheek and loosened his mind, he felt the familiar electrical flow, but instead of pulling it in, he bore down and pushed it outward.

Suddenly Mackenzie’s back arched and her lids flew open. Her gaze locked onto his. The gold flecks in her green eyes sparkled with such depth he imagined he was looking straight into her soul. She grabbed his face and pressed a half-crazed kiss to his lips, her mouth hard and demanding against his.

He cupped her other cheek and she moaned into him. Like the in and out of breathing, their energies mixed, ebbing back and forth between them. She intoxicated not only his body, but his mind and soul, and he had the glorious sensation that he was floating.

In one commanding movement, she climbed on top of him and speared herself with his stiff erection. As she rode him, he had the answer to his unspoken question, but he shoved aside the gnawing ache to address another time.

The scent of sex was heavy in the room when he blinked his eyes in the darkness several hours later. With his nose buried in the crook of his arm, he smelled her musky sweetness in his pores and knew she was gone. A quick glance at the clock made his gut clench. What was wrong with him? How could he have let so much time go by? A couple of hours, maybe, but he’d blown off a whole night and most of the day making love to Mackenzie. No doubt the rest of his team had been on stakeout like he had ordered. He flung off the sheets and stomped to the bathroom. He was a horny-assed selfish bastard who only cared about getting laid.

Just like he had the night his parents were killed.