Holding her hips in a ruthless grip, he coaxed her to yet another climax before he was rising upward and swiftly carrying her toward the bed.
Tumbling her into the center of the mattress, he followed her downward and positioned himself above her while she was still trembling with her release. Thrusting deep, he claimed her lips in a kiss of sheer possession.
His eyes closed and a moan was wrenched from his throat.
This was sheer paradise.
The slender female body that fit beneath him with absolute perfection. The feel of her slender hands as they swept down his back to grasp his hips. And the potent pulse of her outrageous power.
This was a woman like no other.
Rare.
Exceptional.
And . . . his.
With a slow movement he pulled out to his very tip before thrusting back into her silken body. Dios, but he was lost.
Completely and utterly ruined for any other woman.
Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Santiago pistoned his hips over and over, keeping his pace steady as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her nails bit into his skin as she met him thrust for thrust, heightening his pleasure.
The climax was building and he lifted his head to press tiny kisses over her face.
“Nefri, I can’t wait,” he rasped.
“Good,” she muttered, cupping his face in her hands as he plunged within her.
He managed to hold on until he could feel her ripples of satisfaction clenching him, then with a last groan, he lost himself in the fierce orgasm that ripped away all pretense and left him with the unshakable knowledge his life would never be the same.
Just north of Chicago
Sally woke with a throbbing head and a nasty premonition that she was ass-deep in trouble.
Like a coward she kept her eyes squeezed shut and tried to will herself back to sleep. If something bad was coming, why be conscious for it?
Unfortunately, she was sprawled on a hard cement floor that was giving her a cramp in the neck. And since whatever might be lurking in the dark didn’t seem to be in a hurry to kill her, she grudgingly forced her heavy lids to lift.
She grimaced. On the up side, the large unoccupied room was thankfully empty of a ravaging horde. On the down side, it was coated in a thick layer of dust that now covered her from head to toe.
Stifling a sneeze, she managed to rise to her feet, pressing a hand to her aching temple.
Where the hell was she?
And more importantly, how did she get there?
Her gaze skimmed over the brick walls and the windows that had been boarded over. The floor was cement and the lofted ceiling lined with steel beams.
A warehouse? A closed factory?
Taking a hesitant step forward, she desperately tried to remember what had happened. She’d been traveling through the tunnel with Roke, right? And then they’d come to the end of the tunnel even as her powers were running on empty.
What then? Vaguely she recalled Roke leaving to search the building overhead.
Had he abandoned her? Or had something happened to him? Was he hurt?
Or worse . . . ?
Before the disturbing thoughts could fully form, she was shaking her aching head. No. He’d come back. Yes. That was right. He’d come back and . . .
Her heart slammed painfully against her breastbone. Oh, crap.
He’d come back ready to murder her.
So had he succeeded? Was this her version of hell? An eternity alone in an empty, dusty warehouse?
It could be worse, she decided, heading toward the steel door across the barren room. She could be stuck with an arrogant bully of a vampire who had gone from loathing to downright hatred.
Almost as if the thought of Roke stirred some primitive connection to him, Sally came to a slow halt.
She sensed him. Not just physically, although she would swear she could feel the icy prickles of his power brushing over her skin.
But somewhere deep inside her.
Her mouth went dry as she glanced around the shadowed room. “Hello?” Her voice echoed eerily through the darkness, bouncing off the walls. “Is anyone there?”
There was the faintest swish of sound before a dark shape was falling from the rafters. She instinctively leaped backward as the shadow revealed itself as Roke.
Holy crap.
Had he been hanging up there like a bat?
With a chilling smile, he folded his arms over his chest. He was still wearing the black jeans and leather jacket from earlier, but his dark hair lay as smooth as polished silk framing his stark, disgustingly handsome face.
“Going somewhere, witch?” he mocked, the pale eyes glowing white in the dim light.
“Roke,” she breathed.
“Yes, Roke.” His power bit into her skin like tiny shards of ice. “Your devoted love-slave.”
She winced, rubbing her hands over her arms. “I’m sorry.”
“Not yet, but I promise you’re going to be.”
She believed him. The threat of violence was a tangible force. She shivered, hoping he would at least make her death quick.
“I . . . it wasn’t my fault.”
He curled back his lips to reveal a set of fangs that looked massive to Sally.
And deadly.
And . . . painful. Really, really painful.