“I don’t,” she said. “She deserves to be mourned.”
That may be so, but his faerie had suffered too much and he had had more than enough. If anybody so much as looked at her funny, he was going to come down hard on them with both sizefourteen steel-toed boots. Then he would consider seriously the merits of evisceration.
He kissed her again, gently, and she kissed him back. Then soothing became searching. She wound her arms around his neck, and he growled low in his throat and moved to cover her body. “Wait,” she murmured. “Don’t you want to eat first? You must be starving.”
“It has quite a high priority rating,” he muttered. He rested his weight on one elbow and ran his hand down the side of her body, looking for a way to open her robe. “It’s next on my to-do list, but you’re the first thing.”
The most important, the most urgent thing.
There was a belt at her waist. It was tied. He untied it and pulled her robe open.
She was naked underneath, and he swallowed as he stared as her gorgeous pink-tipped breasts, that narrow waist, the impudent little gold navel ring and the silken tuft of private hair at the sweet, graceful arch of her pelvis.
He put his forehead down between her breasts and swallowed hard. She was his life. It was as simple as that and he had almost lost her.
Niniane slipped her hands under his chin and gently urged his head up. Her face softened as she took in the harsh set of his face, his full glittering eyes. He shook his head. His throat had closed up, and anyway, he had no words.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. She stroked his face, his shoulders. She reached into the shadowed space between them, took hold of his erection and guided him between her legs. She pulled her knees up and cradled his long torso as he came inside her, came home.
Then the words came, and the force of his feelings shoved them out of his mouth.
“I need those chains back,” he said. “I’m going to shackle you to me. We’ll destroy the key. We’re never going to be more than two feet apart again.”
“Okay, we’ll do that,” she murmured. “I promise.”
“Don’t humor me,” he snapped. He pushed all the way inside. Then he rocked his hips, moving slow and gentle as he remained buried to the hilt. He felt huge and hot and he stretched her wide, and he found just the right spot to hit. With every thrust he ground hard against her pelvis, as he dug in as deep as he possibly could.
“I’m not,” she gasped. “I almost lost you too.”
She flung back her head, her eyes closed. Her emotions were too naked, the pleasure too intense. She dug her nails into his flexing back.
He slid a muscled arm underneath her, his hand at the nape of her neck, and he clamped her to him so tight she could hardly breathe. “Look at me.”
Her eyes opened and she looked. His hard-edged features were raw, but his eyes had cleared, and they were…
Steady. Adamant. Bedrock.
“You will never lose me, faerie,” he said point-blank into her upturned face. “I love you too much.”
Then he pushed his pelvis against her one last time in a slow, hard, voluptuous grind, and the explosion of pleasure was so intense it seared her soul as he destroyed her again. God, she adored him. He was such a walking, talking holocaust of a man.
They ate and slept, and made love again. Then laughter came back early the next morning, and they agreed it might be time to face the world again. They dressed and left the tent together, and while he clenched if she stepped too far away from him and she turned to look too often for the reassuring sight of his tall black-clad figure, they managed well enough.
While Tiago had been unconscious, she had written a letter of condolence to Cameron’s family. Two troops had taken the letter along with Cameron’s body back to Chicago. After healing Tiago, Carling disappeared into her tent and did not reemerge. When Niniane gave the word they were ready to break camp and resume travel, there were four, not three, wrapped and cloaked vampires who appeared the next morning. Niniane noticed that Rune glanced at Carling’s cloaked figure often as she rode astride her black Arabian stallion, his eyes narrowed in a speculative look. But more often than not, his expression was closed and remote. She and the others respected his unspoken desire and left him alone.
Such, however, was not the case for Aubrey. With three bodies wrapped in herbs and carried in one wagon at the rear, it was a somber group, and Niniane set an easy pace. After they had ridden for most of the day, she caught Tiago’s eye and gestured with her chin toward the Dark Fae male. Tiago turned to look. Aubrey rode by himself. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him, his chiseled features bleak and withdrawn.