Lothaire (Immortals After Dark, #12)

by Kresley Cole

He smirked. Elizabeth’s maidenhead belongs to me alone. His smirk faded. He would never know her like that. He could only claim Saroya. Never to experience Elizabeth’s unbridled passion? Never to inch his cock into her dripping sex? So he’d be no different from all her other conquests. His fist shot out, connecting with the wall.

He wanted to kill anyone she’d been with. To annihilate them all.

She looked impetuous, her eyes defiant. She flipped that mane of hair over her shoulders, which almost earned her a position in his shower.

He stared after her. Cream-jeans? Lazy horse? Unbidden, his lips curled into a grin.

“Entertain me,” he commanded, taking a seat at his desk. He was shirtless, barefooted. His damp hair hung carelessly over his forehead. So gorgeous, too gorgeous. “Entertain.” She rubbed her eyes. “That wasn’t part of the job description.” “I believe the job description was for you to do whatever I command. Besides, you’re clearly dressing for the job you want and not the job you have, and my Bride will entertain me after we spend.”

“I find I have questions about you. Amazing, considering it’s . . . you. But I can’t control my curiosity.”

“Most of them were decent.” “But not all? Did any of them . . . touch you?” His expression darkened, his fangs seeming to grow.

He turned back to her. “You’ll sleep in here.” At her disbelieving look, he said, “I don’t exaggerate the threat to you. I’d hoped to have separate rooms—not because I wished to afford you privacy, but because I didn’t want to look at you. Unfortunately, we do not have that luxury.”

Without warning, he laid aside his puzzle and drew her into his arms, tracing them to the bed. He sat up against the wall, curling her in his lap, gazing down at her. “When I take the castle, I’ll chop them all down.” “Um, every last tree?” That seemed to mollify him some. “Yes, beauty, I knew you’d agree,” he answered, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

He grinned down at her, revealing even, white teeth, his fangs not so intimidating in this twilight. Lothaire Daciano was stunning when he smiled. “I will. And then you’ll be my queen forever.” “Yes, forever, Lothaire.” He curled his finger under her chin, instead of pinching it. “You want to be with me.”

“Waited an eternity for you.” He ran his knuckles along her cheekbone, his expression one of longing. And she had the strangest urge to cry. “I didn’t know what you would look like. Imagined for centuries, searching faces.”

“Do you really mean to do me harm?” “When I find the ring, yes. To you, I’m nothing more than death,” he said, even as he gave her cheek another tender stroke.

And oh, she responded to his obvious pleasure. Watching his lips work made her melt. When his tongue twined around her fingertip, she felt a slow, wet ache build between her legs. Why hadn’t she let him suckle her breasts before? To have his hungry mouth working her stiffened nipples?

“Need you.”

He cupped her breast with a hot palm, those elegant fingers tugging at her nipple through the silk. She gasped, her body gone boneless. “Answer me.” He dipped his mouth to her neck, teasing her with small grazes of one fang. “Yes or no, Elizabeth, before I stop pretending your answer matters.”

He had one of his hands on a tender breast, his other steadily inching Elizabeth’s lingerie up her taut thighs. How had he gotten into this position? He couldn’t remember. Why did he taste her delicious blood? Why couldn’t he recall—

Yet as she scurried to right herself, her nightgown rode up and he caught the fleetest glimpse of her sex. Bare? At once, he traced to the bed, throwing her back down. “Have you a surprise for me? I’ll see it now—part your thighs.”

He clamped his hands on her knees, spreading them, rucking up the gown. Face gone red, she fought, but he easily overpowered her, wedging his hips between her thighs. “I did things your way the last time. Now I’ll do them my . . .” His words trailed off at his first sight of her female flesh. Glistening lips opened like petals.

He didn’t want to want her. But the sight of her aroused sex and its luscious scent made him lust beyond control. When she needed release...

“Let me go!” She shoved at him. To take this prize away from him? “Mine, Elizabeth!” He cupped her possessively, giving her a harsh jostle. “This belongs to me. You don’t deny me what’s mine.”

“Understand me, woman, I own your body, will enjoy it for the rest of my life. Licking it, fucking it, all at my leisure.”

“I only want to finger you, just play. Watch me, then.” To illustrate, he leisurely rubbed his forefinger over her clitoris. Once, twice . . .

When he teased her, she lifted her hips for more. “So responsive.” He skimmed his forefinger between her damp, silken lips. “You’re quite pretty here, Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely. To utter that statement without the rána, he had to add, “I find you exquisite here.”

“Greedy for more?” Grinding his hardness against her hip, he nuzzled her neck, her ear, murmuring words in Russian. His warm breaths against her made her shiver wildly. “Wh-what did you say?” “I talked filth in your ear.” Voice gone ragged, he said, “I told you that you’ve got the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen, and then I told you what I’m going to do with it.”

“Be my dear,” he rasped with that deep accent, “and finger yourself for me. Show me how you like to come.”

“You don’t penetrate yourself?” His eyes were locked on her fingers. She could only shake her head. “You wouldn’t know to, would you? Soon I’ll teach you how good it feels to have something inside you.”

he raised his hand to her mouth, dipping his thumb inside it. When she dutifully sucked, he hissed, “Yes. Ah, sweet Lizvetta, I’ll be at this flesh dusk, midnight, and dawn.”

“Lothaire, I’m close. . . .” “Without waiting for me?”

“Oh, my God . . .” I could come just watching him move. He clamped both of her nipples between a thumb and forefinger, then thrust again. And again. “About to spill across your neck if I don’t stop.” She whimpered, imagining that hot liquid marking her. “Do whatever you want!”

“Do you want us to touch? You want to feel me against those bare lips?” Again his tone was challenging. “Then kiss me. Rise up and kiss me.”

Gods, she makes me crazy. He drew back. “Harder. Kiss me like you’ll die if you don’t come soon.”

When he caught her mouth with his own, she sucked his tongue again, making his head swim. And then . . . she tentatively licked one of his aching fangs, drawing her own blood for him. He stilled in shock even while thinking, Yes, ah, gods, yes! Do it again. . . . The little witch licked the other one. Harder.

She wrapped her leg around his waist, spurring him on. Hot little piece . . .

He needed to get away from her. And still, he lay on his side with one arm sprawled over her breasts, his leg drawn up over hers, pulling her closer. Then he frowned. They fit. Like two puzzle pieces.

“And is that what you had in store for me?” “Depends on how good you are. I don’t come like a fountain for just anyone.” The gall! “Then she must have been quite talented.” “Surprisingly so.”

Lothaire had expected Elizabeth to come marching into his room, upbraiding him about his exit and stinging comments. Was I even looking forward to it?

He was still furious with the goddess for not showing—but he was even more so at Elizabeth for being so inconceivably sexy.

Her passion aroused him like nothing else he could remember. Far from being disgusted by his seed marking her, she’d seemed excited by it. “Look what I made you do,” she’d teased, nigh beguiling him.

Of course, Lothaire might kill Chase’s female the first time she mouthed off to him. Regin the Radiant could try a fey monk’s patience.

“How did you know it was I instead of the mortal?” Lothaire’s hands stilled on a button. He’d known because Elizabeth was . . . prettier.

The goddess caked her face with makeup, covering those charming freckles on her nose. And she walked stiffly, not with that sensual roll of her hips. Elizabeth’s eyes were brighter. She smiled on occasion.

“If such is your wish, vampire. I will endeavor to be biddable to you. That’s what you want, is it not?” I might want a woman who will take my orders—and then do everything but.

“Are you quick of wit, glib of tongue?” As Elizabeth continued to be. You’re the flyweight to her heavy. . . .

“Come, you have a pretty smile.” “You mean Elizabeth does. Does she grin coyly for you, Lothaire? Are you besotted? Perhaps you do prefer her over me?” she scoffed. Might Elizavetta be mine? Her name yelled to the sky had felt . . . right.

Was it Elizabeth’s abandon that had aroused him so—or merely his Bride’s body?

When he’d lain next to Elizabeth with his leg thrown over hers, his arm draping across her soft breasts . . . they fit.

And worse . . . he’d caught himself imagining it was Elizabeth to stay hard.

Two nights ago, she’d awakened in her spot on the sofa to find him kneeling beside her, stroking her hair.

Her ego had taken a hit. But then there’d been those glimpses of a different side of him. The seductive, charming Lothaire whose kisses set her blood afire. The vampire who made her toes curl with his accented, old-fashioned phrasings. “Be my dear . . .”

If she asked him, “Do you like blue?” and he did but didn’t want to admit it, he’d sneer, “Do I look like the type of man who would like blue?” He started statements with “Perhaps” or “I’d wager” to avoid lies. Or he’d say something distractingly outrageous. She called it Lothaire-speak.