“Do you think I haven’t had every one of those bastards tracked down and eliminated?”
She blinked at the stark confession. What did she do with that?
A better woman would no doubt be horrified.
She knew Elijah well enough to realize that his means of elimination would be a slow, appallingly painful death.
But the knowledge that the bastards that had tortured her for so long were dead . . . and that they’d suffered . . . well, she didn’t feel at all horrified.
She felt liberated.
“You did that for me?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Those I could find.” A grim smile touched his lips. “I discovered that Viper, the clan chief of Chicago, had most of them wiped out after he found his mate at one of the auctions. I had to be content with only a handful of trolls and a half-breed ogre.”
She managed a faint smile at the edge of annoyance in his voice. He wasn’t pleased his thirst for revenge had been cheated by a fellow clan chief.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said so softly only a vampire could have caught the words.
He leaned down until they were nose to nose, his power losing its icy edge to stroke over her skin in a soft caress.
“Say that you are as happy as I am that you survived,” he murmured.
“Of course I’m happy.”
“Then rejoice in the evidence of your escape.” He pressed his lips to her scars. “I do.”
Elijah had had the best intentions when he’d come into the apartment.
He’d planned to corner Valla and convince her that he didn’t have a savior complex or whatever other lame excuse she’d invented to keep a barrier between them.
Then he was going to reveal what he’d known from the moment he’d scooped her out of the Seine.
She was his mate.
And he would spend the rest of eternity, if necessary, convincing her that they belonged together.
But he’d been distracted by her concern for the pesky gargoyle. And more delectably distracted when he’d been goaded into kissing her.
Now he was determined to prove that the scars that marked her face only added to her beauty.
And if words couldn’t do it, then he was willing to use more direct methods.
Like a return to the delectable kissing . . .
That seemed a good place to start.
Pressing his lips against the jagged patch of skin that had been ruined by a spell meant to kill her, he savored the heat and tantalizing scent that had haunted his dreams for far too long.
She stiffened, but didn’t pull away, her breathing shallow as he continued to caress the physical proof of her survival. He took his time, trailing his lips over the delicate shell of her ear before returning to her cheek.
It wasn’t until her rigid muscles slowly began to loosen that he allowed his exploration to expand to include the line of her stubborn jaw and the enticing length of her neck. He shuddered, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to cup the lush abundance of her breasts.
Mère de dieu, he loved the feel of her softness in his hands.
He was going to love the feel of her breasts in his mouth even more, he decided, tugging the top higher as he dipped his head down to capture the tip of her nipple between his teeth, taking care not to break the fragile skin with his fangs.
He might be ready and eager to complete their mating, but he wasn’t going to risk creating a bond she wasn’t prepared to accept.
She’d had too many things forced on her over the years.
Wrapping his arms around her slender waist as she shivered in pleasure, Elijah teased her tender nipple with his tongue. They groaned in unison.
The taste of her was succulent. As sweet as fresh peaches. And her scent . . .
His cock threatened to explode as her arousal spiced the air.
He wanted to strip off her clothes and take her against the counter.
Or maybe he would lay her across the dining table and feast on her for the next century.
Of course, she might prefer the comfort of her bed, he silently acknowledged as he turned his head to capture her other nipple between his lips.
A soft mattress. Moonlight spilling over her luscious body as he settled between her legs and thrust deep inside her. A locked door to keep out unwelcome intruders.
Oui. The bedroom was swiftly becoming the preferable option.
Lifting his head, he claimed her lips in a kiss that was slow and deep, demanding everything she had to offer. At the same time his fingers threaded in the satin softness of her golden hair.
There was no hurry, he reminded his aching erection. This wasn’t sex.
It was making love in the finest sense.
Her hands drifted up to clutch his shoulders, as if her knees had suddenly gone weak. But even as he was congratulating himself on her sweet capitulation, she was pulling back to suck in an unsteady breath.
“Wait.”
With a low growl, he pulled her back so he could bury his face in the curve of her neck.
“I have waited too long, mon ange.”
She shivered, but despite her obvious arousal she didn’t melt beneath his irresistible touch.
Stubborn female.