The phone rang again and he answered before the ring-a-linging stopped. “Where are you.” He exhaled. “Good. Don’t stay that late again, okay? You can always go back, just not if you’re fucking dead. See you tomorrow night, asshole.”
He was laughing a little as he hung up. “What a psychopath.”
Elise smiled, but it was a remote kind of thing. “It takes a special breed to do what you all and the Brothers are doing.”
As Axe recognized that her mood had changed, he wanted to ease her. “Don’t worry. I know where you’ve gone in your head, but I’m safe. I’m careful—”
“Axe … I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, Elise thought. Not what she’d expected to come out of her mouth. Like, not even close.
And as that bomb landed between them, Axe blinked like she’d spoken a foreign language. Which, yup, was precisely the kind of reaction you were looking for when you told a male you loved him.
“Oh, God.” She put her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
With subtle pressure, he made her drop her arms down. And his expression was …
Well, he was smiling.
It was a slight kind of thing, not a big flash of the fangs or anything. But it was definitely a small, secret smile, meant only for her—and created, she suspected, only by her.
Now, that’s what she was talking about, she thought as she smiled back at him.
“Say it again,” he whispered. “Send some more sunshine my way just so I’m sure I heard you right.”
Elise was very aware that she had two paths to choose from. She could deny the words, downplay them, be safe. Or she could let herself fly.
She picked glorious flight over fright. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Axe smiled a little bigger and then he was kissing her, his heavy body easing her back on the pallet. With sure hands, he disappeared the blanket between them, and then he rolled on top of her, his hot, hard erection going in between her legs.
It was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him back and welcome him inside. And there was no frantic pumping this time, just a gentle rolling motion that warmed her first before it lit her on fire.
As they made love in front of the hearth, she felt like her world was complete: Yes, it was early in the relationship, but with honesty and trust, all things were possible.
Especially as Axe dropped his head and whispered into her ear, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”
Elise giggled.
Yup, she let out a girlie giggle that was more fitting for the kind of female who got her nails done and had streaks in her hair and wore high heels and flirty skirts.
At the sound, Axe stopped and eased back. “Was that what I think it was?”
“No, not at all.”
“Did my psychology Ph.D. candidate actually—”
She clamped her palm over his mouth. “I did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did—”
As he thrust fully into her, Elise arched under his body, pleasure flooding her veins. “Axe …”
“Admit it.”
“What?” she mumbled.
He rolled his hips twice. And then stopped. “You giggled.”
“Not fair—” He thrust again and this time she went for his butt with her nails. “Finish what you started!”
“Admit you giggled!”
“Why!”
They were laughing so hard, it didn’t matter what they were saying. A buoyant bubble of happiness had engulfed them both, and they were bouncing in the center of the joyful space, free of anything on the outside.
“Fine, I giggled—”
In response to her capitulation, Axe got down to business, thrusting into her … before reaching down, grabbing one of her legs, and stretching it all the way up so she was cocked to the side and he could get in still further.
Even through her pleasure, she managed to keep her eyes on him. He was magnificent in the firelight, his warrior’s body dominating her, his muscles standing out in sharp relief, the massive veins that ran down his neck and into his arms showing starkly against his tan skin.
When he bared his fangs, she knew he was going to go for her jugular, and she wanted him there. Turning her head to the side, she bared herself to him—
The strike was brutal, his fangs going in so deep, she screamed—but not in pain, even though it hurt in a delicious way.
This was the marking she had heard about.
This was the owning of the female by the male, the staking of the claim. And sure enough, he held her in place at the throat with his teeth as he marked her from the inside out by coming into her sex.
But he wasn’t done with her.
Before she could catch her breath, he pulled out, flipped her over, and yanked her onto all fours. Rearing up behind her, he bit her again, on the other side, and then he was in her once more, taking her from the rear, one hand running up between her slapping breasts and locking on the base of her throat, the other planted on the floor, holding them both up.
She was facing the fire, and her vision swung wildly with each of his pounding thrusts—the flames jumping this way and that, her hair flying around until some lashed into her open mouth.
At some point, her upper body just collapsed onto the blanket, her sex up in the air, his for the taking as he drilled her over and over again, coming so many times, he coated her with his marking scent.
Elise forgot how many orgasms she had.
All she cared about was that he never, ever stop.
FORTY-ONE
The following evening, when the sun was safely below the horizon, and the temperature was dropping from the twenties into the teens, Rhage found himself once again exercising great self-control.
He was down in the mansion’s foyer, standing in front of the double doors of the vestibule. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was actually off to one side of them, staring out of the bubbly, antique glass framers that faced the courtyard beyond. Which meant he couldn’t see much.
Kind of apt, really, considering he had no idea how this was going to go.
He sensed, rather than heard or scented, his females upon the great staircase, and he turned around and watched them descend. Bitty was in a red velvet dress he and Mary had bought her in preparation for the human holiday, and the girl had white tights underneath, patent leather black shoes, and a black felt coat that had been made in the Victorian period and passed down through Bella’s family.
She and Rehv had wanted Bitty to have it, and with its gorgeous satin lining and black velvet collar and cuffs, the thing was certainly made better than anything available at any store today.
Indeed, Bitty’s outfit was so proper and festive … but in spite of her pretty clothes, she looked like she was going to the gallows.
And Mary didn’t appear any better.
As for him? Personally, he felt like someone had cut off both of his legs and left him to bleed out on the floor.
But hey, who was comparing?
As his females hit the mosaic floor and crossed over its depiction of an apple tree in full bloom, he took a deep breath. “You ready, Bitty?”
Dumb fucking question, he thought as she stopped before him.