Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity)

Chapter Eleven


Sally managed to eat through most of the menu before she at last shoved aside the plates, sighing in relief.

Or at least she told herself that it was the vast mounds of food that had lightened her mood and caused the strange flutters in the pit of her stomach.

Otherwise she’d have to admit that Roke’s unexpected glimpse into his tormented past had broken through her defenses with an ease that should terrify her.

She didn’t want to ache at the thought of him being haunted by the memory of the woman who had sired him, or blaming himself for her death.

And she certainly didn’t want to feel the prickles of electric excitement at his casual touches. Really was there any need to brush a stray crumb from her finger, or tuck a curl behind her ear?

It was much better to pretend that nothing had altered between them.

As if to mock her ridiculous decision, Roke reached across the table, his fingers a soft caress as they touched her face.

“You have some color back in your cheeks,” he murmured, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

With a sudden need to distract her odd mood, Sally slid out of her seat and deliberately glanced toward the window.

“It won’t be long until dawn. Shouldn’t we be finding someplace to stay?”

The silver eyes studied her with a hint of puzzlement as he rose to his feet.

“I called the local clan chief before we reached the café and he offered us a safe house not far from here.”

She wrinkled her nose. She’d been on the run most of her life, so it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to going for weeks without a hint of luxury. That didn’t mean, however, she had to like it.

“Another safe house?”

“I have hopes this one will provide a few more amenities,” he said in sympathy. “Are you ready?”

She shrugged, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms as a growing sense of restlessness tingled through her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tossing money on the table, Roke led her out of the café and toward the car parked in the center of the lot.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, shaking his head.

With a jolt of surprise, Sally realized that she’d fallen a step behind Roke, her gaze glued to his rock-hard ass shown to perfection in the faded jeans.

Cursing her increasingly strange mood, she jerked her head up and prayed he hadn’t noticed her lingering stare.

“What’s pathetic?”

“This . . .” He waved a slender hand toward the car. “Piece of shit.” He gave another soulful shake of his head. “We need a new ride.”

She arched a brow. “Are you one of those men who need an expensive ride to make him feel macho?”

With a fluid motion he turned, his hand cupping her chin as he studied her upturned face.

“I’ve never had a problem with macho, but I do have a problem with riding around in a tin can.” His gaze lowered to her unsteady lips, perhaps realizing she’d lost track of his words. Awareness sizzled in the air, sending a dangerous, melting heat through her blood. Then, with a hiss, Roke’s attention shifted toward the nearby trees. “Get in the car.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Dashing around the hood of the car, she yanked open the door and slid inside. She managed to get the door shut, but she was still struggling with her seat belt when Roke had the motor started and was shoving the car into gear.

She clenched her teeth as they bounced through potholes large enough to swallow the tiny car.

“What is it?”

“Fairies.”

She shivered, shifting to peer out the back window. “Are they following us?”

“No, they’re watching from the woods,” he muttered, pulling onto a narrow path instead of the main road. “At least for now.”

They jolted down the pathway at a speed that threatened to rattle the car into scrap metal, but Sally didn’t complain. She was as anxious as Roke to reach the protection of the vampire lair.

Roke took two more turns, each one taking them farther from civilization. Just as Sally was about to accuse Roke of refusing to admit he was lost, they came around a corner to halt in front of a large log cabin nearly hidden in the trees.

“Wait here,” Roke murmured, sliding out of the car and disappearing among the shadows.

It took him less than five minutes to make a complete sweep of the area before he was returning to the car and leading her into the house.

Keeping a watch on the nearby trees, Sally hardly noticed the wide terrace or the heavy steel door that swung open after Roke had punched in a series of numbers.

It wasn’t until she’d stepped over the threshold that she took stock of the actual house.

Her eyes widened as she took in the large great-room that was paneled in a dark, glossy wood. The floors were made of flagstone, matching the fireplace that towered toward the twelve-foot ceiling. Heavy leather sofas and chairs were arranged throughout the long room with a chandelier made from some sort of antlers spilling a soft glow over the entire space.

And peering down from the walls were a half dozen stuffed animal heads mounted on wood placards.

Yeesh.

It looked like a hunting lodge for one of the Rich and Famous, not a supersecret vampire lair.

“This is a safe house?” she demanded.

He shut and locked the door. “Most vampires enjoy their comforts, although there are a few who still prefer isolated caves and a ban on all technology.”

She turned her attention to watch as he moved through the room, touching a keypad on the far wall that turned on the monitors that were obviously connected to the security system.

Although he was dressed in modern jeans and a heavy motorcycle jacket, there was something raw and untamed about his dark beauty.

It was etched into the stark features that were framed by the silken ebony of his hair and the feral grace of his movements.

And those astonishing eyes . . .

He was a hunter who would never be entirely civilized.

“Including you?”

He sent her an exasperated glance. “Why do I sense you’re convinced I live in a teepee in the middle of the desert?”

She frowned. Was he offended? Impossible. His skin was as thick as a rhino’s.

“You don’t seem the type to feel comfortable being surrounded by . . .” She waved a hand around the large room. “This.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ll admit I prefer less wood. And I try to avoid dead animals staring at me from the walls.”

“No shit.” She glanced toward a moose that was eyeballing her with what felt like accusation. “They’re freaking me out.”


Roke moved to stand directly in front of her, gently adjusting the neckline of her sweatshirt before smoothing her hair behind her ear, as if he desperately needed the small, unnecessary touches.

“There are bedrooms upstairs,” he said, his expression carefully guarded even as his fingers traced the shell of her ear. “I know you’re probably not tired right now, but Alexei promised the rooms were fully equipped with TVs and attached bathrooms. There’s also a kitchen that’s kept stocked with human food.”

Sally shivered, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to press herself against his hard body.

Dammit.

She’d done so well keeping her intense need for him locked behind a frosty wall of offended anger. She’d allowed him into her bed once and what had it gotten her?

A door slammed in her face, that’s what.

But trying to nurse that sense of injustice was suddenly an impossible task.

Not only because he’d given her a glimpse of the lonely man who’d tortured himself for years, perhaps centuries, over the death of his sire. But because she wanted him.

That simple.

She wanted to shove her fingers into the satin darkness of his hair. She wanted to strip off his clothes and kiss a path over his hard, perfectly chiseled body. She wanted to wrap her lips around his hard cock before he was shoving her flat on her back and plunging so deep into her that she cried out his name.

Abruptly realizing he was studying her with eyes that had gone smoky with an answering need, Sally took a step back and tried to pretend that she wasn’t aching to feel those extended fangs plunged into her neck.

“What about you?”

His hungry gaze skimmed over her face before lowering to the exposed column of her neck.

“The sunproof rooms are in the basement.”

“No, I meant—” Heat filled her cheeks.

“What?”

She licked her lips. “Dinner.”

Her hair was tugged by a burst of chilled air as Roke struggled to contain his fierce need to pounce.

“There will be blood kept in the lower rooms.”

Her gaze dropped beneath the scorching need that smoldered in his gaze.

This was insanity.

Just because Roke had allowed her to see past his grim exterior didn’t change anything.

How could it?

They were still bound together by magic she didn’t understand.

They were still on the run from a crazy-ass demon and fairies who may or may not want her dead.

And he was still a chief who had pledged his loyalty to a clan who would never, ever accept her as his mate.

“Of course,” she muttered.

His finger slid beneath her chin to tilt her face up to meet his suddenly worried gaze.

“Sally, what’s wrong?”

Wrong? She bit back a hysterical laugh.

What was wrong was that she was being burned alive by a craving that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Nothing.” She wiped her damp palms on her jeans, well aware her arousal was scenting the air. “I think I’ll check out the kitchen.”

His gaze settled on the unsteady curve of her lips. “Hungry already?”

“No, but I want to see if there are enough ingredients to brew a few protective spells.”

He frowned. “The spells—”

“Nothing dangerous,” she said. “I swear.”

He paused, searching her wary expression as if hoping to find . . .

She wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking for, but he obviously failed to find it as he dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Don’t try to leave the house.” He nodded toward the monitors displaying images of the thick trees that circled the house. “The security alarms are set.”

Stupidly she found herself disappointed at his easy retreat.

What did she want?

For him to ignore her don’t-touch-me vibes? To force her to overcome her logic and ease her gnawing frustration?

Christ. She was a mess.

It was a wonder the poor man hadn’t dumped her along the side of the road for his own sanity.

She hunched a shoulder. “I’m not going to take off.”

“Good. For better or worse, we’re in this together.”

“For now.”

His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I’ll be downstairs.” He reached beneath his jacket to pull out the music box. “Do you want me to lock this in a safe?”

She reached to take it, feeling the magic wrap around her with a sense of pleasure.

Perhaps she should be worried by her growing delight in the surge of rich, potent power that raced through her as she traced one of the mysterious hieroglyphs, but it felt so utterly natural it was difficult to imagine it was dangerous.

“No, I’ll keep it with me.”

Roke hesitated, as if he wanted to say something. Or maybe he wanted her to say something.

Maybe to ask him to stay?

When she kept her eyes averted, he muttered something in a low voice and turned to make his way toward the staircase that led to the lower floors.

As she felt the chill of his presence disappear, Sally heaved a deep sigh and headed toward the kitchen.

She’d hoped Roke’s departure would ease the restless frustration that was plaguing her. Instead, it only intensified it.

Unless she intended to follow him to his private rooms and fulfill her vivid fantasies, she needed to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied.





Roke went through the motions.

He fed from the bags of blood kept in a refrigerated safe hidden in the wall. He showered and changed into a black satin robe that had been left in the closet. Then he forced himself to lie on the king-size bed that dominated the wood paneled room.

He was too old a vampire to need sleep, but he did need to rest to replenish his powers.

So while he tended to his physical needs, his mind remained consumed with the female who he could feel moving through the house above him.

Her first destination was the kitchen where the smell of herbs mixed with her intoxicating peach scent that seemed to grow more vibrant and complex with every beat of her heart.

Hours passed before he at last heard her heading up the stairs and stepping into the shower. He growled low in his throat at the thought of her standing naked beneath the cascade of hot water.

He’d been in a constant state of arousal since he’d caught the subtle shift in Sally’s awareness of him.

Sitting across the table in that café, he’d been painfully aware the second her pulse had picked up and her eyes had dilated.

And even now, her desire hummed through their mating bond, calling to him like a siren’s song.

But as revved as he might be to satisfy their mutual hunger, he hadn’t missed her tension.

She wanted him.

But she wasn’t yet prepared to trust him.

And between the two, it was her trust he most needed.

How else could he protect her?

All very noble, he acknowledged with clenched teeth, but painful as hell. It was no wonder saints always looked like pious sourpusses in their paintings.

Blue balls would do that to the most heroic man.

Waiting until he felt her crawl into bed and tumble into sleep, Roke rose from the mattress and began to methodically clean his guns.

It was a task that kept his hands occupied, but his mind free to work through his tangled thoughts.

The sun was setting when he felt a tingle of fear race through the mating bond followed by a hoarse female cry.

Instantly he was on his feet, allowing his senses to spread through the house as he raced up the steps.

He could detect no intruders, but that didn’t halt him from vaulting up the second flight of steps with a blinding speed, the gun he’d just loaded held in one hand and his fangs fully extended.


Exploding into Sally’s room, he came to an abrupt halt, his brows drawing together as he realized that she wasn’t being attacked.

In fact, she remained deeply asleep on the large bed.

He grimaced, about to back out of the room when she twisted onto her back, revealing the sweat coating her face.

“No,” she moaned in a tortured voice. “Leave me alone. Please . . . please.”

Roke moved forward, his heart clenching as he watched her struggle against an unseen foe.

“Shh, my love,” he murmured, joining her on the bed and pulling her into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

She thrashed against him, whimpering in fear until he lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss against her forehead.

“Roke?”

“Easy, love,” he husked, his hand running a gentling path up and down her back.

“Roke?” Slowly she lifted her lashes to reveal her eyes still dark with terror. “What happened?”

He tucked her tight against his chest left bare by his gaping robe.

“You were having a bad dream.”

“Oh.” She shuddered, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips. “Tell me why you were screaming.”

Her lashes lowered, as if hoping to disguise her lingering unease.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her tone fierce, as if she was trying to convince herself. “It’s over.”

“I shared my nightmare,” he reminded her, using the tip of his finger to trace the line of her lower lip. “It won’t bring Fala back, but it did allow me to accept her death without the bitterness that has been destroying me. Sometimes a wound has to be lanced before it can truly heal.”

Thankfully his low words seemed to offer a measure of comfort, and he could feel her tension easing as she nestled her head against the width of his chest.

“Maybe this wound shouldn’t heal.”

“I don’t believe that.” He leaned down to give the lobe of her ear a punishing nip. “Tell me.”

She grudgingly tilted back her head to meet his steady gaze.

“The Dark Lord.”

Roke brushed the damp strands of her hair from her face, already having expected what tormented her.

“He’s dead, Sally. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know that logically, but—”

He stroked his fingers down her throat. “But?”

Another shiver wracked her slender body. “Do you know why the Dark Lord accepted me as a disciple?”

He settled back against the headboard, cradling her shivering body in his lap.

“I assume it has something to do with the fact that you happen to be one of the most powerful witches ever born?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

He brushed his lips over the top of her head. “I’m not sure either,” he admitted wryly. “You terrify the hell out of me.”

She gave a shaken laugh before she was sucking in a steadying breath.

“I was still on the run, trying to hide from the witches my mother had sent to trace me when the Dark Lord . . . contacted me. He said I possessed a talent that no one else had.”

Roke grimaced. He was familiar enough with the evil deity to know the bastard no doubt smashed into poor Sally’s mind with the force of a cement truck.

“What was your talent?”

“I was a conduit.”

Roke frowned. “What’s a conduit?”

Her hand gripped his upper arm, her heart pounding at the memory.

“The Dark Lord could speak directly through me,” she rasped. “I had a direct connection so he could use me like I was his personal cell phone.”

“Shit.” He slid his lips to her temple, his arms wrapping around her as if he could take away the horror. He’d been wrong. The Dark Lord hadn’t been like a cement truck in her brain. He’d been a constant, pulsing, malevolent force. “I’m so sorry, Sally. I wish I could scrub away the memories.” His lips moved to her cheek. “Actually, if you weren’t so damned powerful I could scrub them.”

“No.” Her hand unconsciously smoothed up his arm to his shoulder. “I need to remember the danger of putting my fate in someone else’s hands.”

Roke glanced toward the heavens. Of course she would use the memory of her brutal enslavement by the Dark Lord to try to build an even greater wall between them.

“Putting yourself in someone else’s hands isn’t always bad,” he murmured, deliberately allowing his fingers to trail down her back. Being the good guy clearly wasn’t working. Maybe it was time for a more direct approach. “We all need to depend on someone once in a while.”

She made a sound of disbelief. “Mister Lone Wolf trying to preach to me about depending on someone else?”

He trailed his lips up the line of her jaw, savoring the scent of peaches as he found the racing pulse just below her ear.

“I depend on others,” he assured her.

She swallowed a small groan, her nails digging through the thin silk of his robe.

“Who?”

“My clan.” He used the tip of his tongue to trace the large vein on the side of her neck. “My Anasso.” He tugged aside the narrow strap that held up her satin nightgown she’d no doubt found in the closet. “You.”

“Me?” She sounded genuinely shocked. “What would you depend on me for?”

It was a question he’d been avoiding since the mating first happened.

She was right.

He did like playing the lone wolf. Well, not a wolf. He hated Weres. But, he’d preferred to keep others at a safe distance.

It’d been that way for centuries.

And yet, in the few weeks since their mating, he’d become growingly content with the sense of Sally that was nestled deep inside him.

Not just the glorious sexual heat that flowed through him like molten lava, but the complex combination of fear and joy and aggravation, not to mention his obsessive need to protect her, that seared away the ice he had used to protect his heart after Fala’s death.

Now he made no effort to deny the intoxicating brew as he shoved his fingers in her hair, tilting back her head to give him easier access to the delectable line of her collarbone.

“You’ve reminded me that life isn’t just about duty,” he admitted, his fangs scraping her delicate skin. “And that I’ve closed myself off from my emotions for too long.”

Her breath came out in a shaky sigh, her firm ass wiggling against his cock with an invitation that made him groan.

“The emotions—” Her words were cut short as he kissed a path between her breasts.

“Hmm?” he prompted.

“They’re not real,” she moaned.

He chuckled, using a fang to slice through the nightie and expose the perfection of her breasts.

“Oh . . . I’d say they’re very real.”

Sally jerked as he licked the tip of her breast. “I meant the emotions,” she choked out. “They’re not real.”

Roke lifted his head to meet the guarded gaze. His entire body was hard and aching with anticipation.

“They feel real,” he muttered, his voice already thick with need. “They feel painfully real.”

She briefly stiffened and Roke braced himself for her rejection. Goddammit. Even when he could feel her body trembling with need, she seemed determined to fight her desire.

Then, holding his darkened gaze, she allowed her hand to slip beneath his robe, splaying her fingers over his unbeating heart.


“This is only going to complicate the situation.”

His already hard erection gave a painful throb. Her touch was so light he could barely feel it, but it was enough to send an explosion of pleasure through him.

This woman had the power that no other possessed.

Her every touch, every brush of her warm breath, every beat of her heart, made him feel as if this moment was something new. Something so rare and precious that it could only happen between the two of them.

And perhaps that was true.

Perhaps the connection between mates added a depth of intimacy that could never be experienced by two mere lovers.

Certainly there had never been another woman whose hunger was a tangible force that pulsed deep inside him, arousing his own desire with shocking force.

He groaned as he lowered his head to bury his face in her hair, filling himself with the scent of warm peaches.

“The situation has been complicated from the beginning, my love,” he murmured. “But this . . .” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “This part is simple.”

She shivered. “What if it makes the mating permanent?”

The thought should have been worrisome. Surely nothing was more important than breaking the unnatural bond?

Instead he dismissed her concern without a second’s hesitation.

“There could be a dozen ways we might accidentally make the mating permanent,” he muttered, covering her hand to press it hard against his chest. He was so hungry for her touch it was a physical pain. “Besides, if you were a demon who based your powers on sex, we’d know that by now. You would have been compelled to seek out sex, even if it wasn’t with me.”

She bit her lower lip. “Maybe.”

He frowned. He didn’t need the mating bond to know she was fiercely aroused.

Her need scented the very air.

But, tilting back her head, he read the hesitation still darkening her eyes.

“What is it, Sally?”

“I feel—” She licked her dry lips, sending a flare of heat shooting straight to his cock.

“What?” he husked.

“Out of control.”

Shit. He’d been floundering out of control for weeks. It was becoming a normal state of affairs.

“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked.

Her expression remained somber. “For me . . . yes.”

Ah. He understood.

Her life had been a desperate fight for survival since she turned sixteen; no doubt the only thing she’d been able to control was her own body.

But, the Dark Lord had even taken that away from her by making her his conduit.

It had been rape at its most basic form.

No wonder she was wary of putting herself in a vulnerable position.

“You want control?” he murmured softly, planting a kiss on her plush lips. “You’ve got it.”

With gentle care, he scooped her off his lap, laying her next to him on the mattress before he stretched out his legs and settled against the pile of pillows.

She blinked in confusion, her hair a tumble of red and bronze and deep gold as it framed her pale face.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m yours. Do what you want.”

Her brows lifted, but he didn’t miss the covert curiosity in her gaze as it lowered to take in his chest that was exposed by his open robe.

“You’re so certain my choice won’t be sticking a stake in your heart?”

He held her gaze as he cautiously lifted his hand to trace the curve of her lips.

“We have to learn to trust each other,” he murmured. “It’s the only way we’re going to survive.”

She gave a slow, hesitant nod, looking unbearably fragile in the darkness. Their earlier passion had exploded so fast there had been no time for thinking.

Now she had to gather her courage to take control of their lovemaking.

To take control of him.

He swallowed a low groan.

It was an oddly erotic thought.

“Okay,” she at last managed to husk. “Don’t move.”

Roke smiled at her command, folding his arms behind his head. Sally paused another moment, then with a fluid motion she pushed herself off the mattress, and before he could guess her intent, she was straddling his hips and gazing down at him with a tiny smile.

Roke hissed in shock, clutching the quilt to prevent himself from grasping her hips and guiding her onto his aching cock.

He was the one who invited her to take control.

He wouldn’t take it away from her.

Even if it killed him.

Tiny quakes of pleasure shook his body and she narrowed her gaze.

“I warned you . . . don’t move.”

Roke hissed, his fingers nearly ripping through the quilt as she calmly reached for the hem of her satin nightgown and pulled it over her head. He didn’t need light to make out the perfect swell of her breasts crowned by rosy nipples or the narrow curve of her waist, or the smooth ivory of her skin.

With a groan his hips thrust upward, rubbing his arousal against the thin strip of satin that was all that covered her moist core.

“My beautiful witch.”

“You once told me that Styx should throw away the keys to the dungeon and leave me for the wolves,” she murmured, her hands sliding beneath the lapels of the robe and tugging it off his body.

His fangs were fully extended as her fingers explored his bared chest, circling his nipples before heading ever lower. It was the sweetest torture he had ever endured.

“One of the dogs ever lay a hand on you and they’re dead,” he growled, his hands lifting to run up her bare thighs. “Hell, if any man touches you, they’re dead.”

She rolled her eyes before slowly leaning forward to press her lips against his neck.

“I don’t want any other man to touch me.” She found a sensitive spot at the base of his throat, tormenting him with tiny nibbles. “One mate is more than enough.”

He arched his back as anticipation swelled through him. “It’s not that bad, is it? Mates can be useful on occasion.”

“Really?” Her lips skimmed over his chest, her hair an erotic brush against his skin “And how are you useful?”

“I have all sorts of talents,” he growled, his fingers slipping beneath the scrap of silk so he could rip off the underwear. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“I don’t know.” She licked a beaded nipple. “I think it’s my turn to demonstrate.”

He groaned as she deliberately allowed her breasts to rub against his chest.

“Christ, you’re not going to need a stake to kill me.”

With a low, throaty chuckle she began crawling down his body, her gaze fixed squarely on his straining erection.

“I like this idea of being the one in control.”

So did his cock.

The bastard twitched and throbbed, as if silently pleading for her touch, even as he ruthlessly sought to keep himself from coming.

One touch and he feared he would explode.

“Do you want me to beg?”

She slowly smiled, clearly pleased with her power over him. “The thought is tempting.”

Oh hell. He’d created a monster.

“You are tempting, my love,” he groaned. “I need to be inside you.”

A smile curved her lips.

No, not just a smile.

A wholly wicked smile that spoke of ancient Eve and female enticement.

“But I’m not done.”

On the point of assuring her that he was going to be done if she didn’t hurry things along, Roke gave a strangled shout and nearly shot off the bed as Sally leaned down and licked him from balls to tip.

Holy shit.

She wasn’t a witch, she was a temptress.

Swirling her tongue around the very tip of him, she gave him another leisurely lick before she at last parted her lips and took him into the warm wetness of her mouth.


His hips elevated off the bed as she explored every straining inch of him, swiftly learning precisely what earned his most desperate groans.

Finally he had to admit that he couldn’t take another second of her delectable torture.

Already his balls were tight with the approaching climax. He wanted to be lodged deep inside her when he came.

Reaching down, he grasped her arms and tugged her up to sprawl on top of him. She sighed as her legs fell on either side of his hips, the heat of her moist core pressed against his shaft.

“Sally, I’m going out of mind,” he groaned, his fingers gliding up her inner thighs to stroke through her wet heat. “Put me out of my misery . . . please.”

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes filled with a confidence as she leaned forward that was as sweet as the soft kiss she pressed to his lips.

There was no doubt to mar this precious moment.

Only the joy of two people who belonged together.

Stroking through her dampness, he located her tiny bundle of pleasure, teasing her until she was at last pleading for release.

Then, angling her hips over his straining cock, he cupped her ass and with one smooth thrust he entered her.

She gave a soft cry of pleasure and he caught her lower lip between his teeth, careful to keep his fangs from grazing her fragile flesh.

It was true that they couldn’t know what would or wouldn’t make their mating permanent. But the one certain means for a vampire was the exchange of blood.

He couldn’t risk accidentally taking her blood in the heat of the moment.

Not until Sally had the opportunity to decide what she wanted from her future.

Arching his hips off the bed, Roke drove himself even deeper, the intensity of the sensations almost overwhelming.

“Roke,” Sally groaned, her tongue dipping between his fangs to tangle with his.

His fingers dug into the softness of her backside. “Am I going too fast?”

“It’s perfect,” she moaned. “So perfect.”

“Do you feel me deep inside you?” he demanded.

“I feel you . . . everywhere.” She pulled back, her eyes dark with astonishment. “I feel everything you feel.”

“Because we’re mated.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking in and out of her in a swift rhythm. “We’ve become one. Heart and soul.”

“Roke.”

She dipped her head downward, claiming his lips as Roke quickened his thrusts, his entire body surging toward a sense of completion that he never dreamed possible.