Forever Bound Series 1-4 Part 43

She grabbed for his broad shoulders as the release blasted through her. Even as her s.e.x contracted, he was there. Not with those long, broad fingers anymore, but with the heavy length of his c.o.c.k. Driving into her. Plunging deep.

His neck was inches from her mouth. She had to taste him again. Bloodl.u.s.t, physical l.u.s.t, they blurred in her mind and her control fell to the ground. There was no thought. Only need. Hunger that couldn't be satisfied.

He pushed into her, not easy or gentle, and she wanted him that way. His hands were around her hips, forcing her into the air so that he supported her body and he drove into her, again and again with thrusts that stole her breath and made her body shudder.

She clenched her s.e.x around him, squeezing tight.

"Iona...so good..."

She'd show him better than good. She let the bite linger, knowing it would bring more pleasure.

Pleasure. It was what they both wanted. Craved.

He pulled her away from the wall. Wrapped his arms around her so that he held her fully. And his hips still pumped into her. Wolves...so powerful.

Another climax hit her, and this one had her crying out as she lifted her mouth from his flesh. Her breath was choked and the pleasure...it was so intense that it almost hurt.

Her whole body was electrified with feeling. So sensitive that every move of his flesh against hers had Iona tensing.

Then he shoved boxes off a table top. Put her down over it. Her legs dangled in the air.

"We aren't done," Jamie promised, his voice so dark and deep.

She wanted to smile. Couldn't. He'd taken her legs. Hooked them over his shoulders so that she was wide open to him. He took her now, hard and wild, and it was exactly what she wanted. The rush of sensation just wouldn't stop.

Iona didn't care that his claws were out. That they'd slashed across the top of the table. She didn't care that his eyes glowed or that his cheeks had hollowed, signaling the presence of his beast.

She liked the wildness. Wanted it.

His head lifted. She saw the flash of his fangs. Fangs that were even sharper than her own.

Blood and s.e.x-that wasn't just a combination that worked for vampires.

She turned her head to the side, offering herself to him. Only fair...she'd had her turn.

He took the spot where her neck curved into her shoulder. His lips closed over the flesh. His teeth pressed lightly into her. It didn't feel like he was drinking from her though.

It felt as if he were...claiming her.

Then he stiffened against her. The hot splash of his release filled her and sent more waves of pleasure pulsing through Iona's body. Pleasure, life, l.u.s.t...she wanted it all.

This wasn't sleep. Wasn't death. Wasn't whatever the h.e.l.l had happened to her because of Latham.

Jamie's body was pressed to hers. Flesh to flesh. He was the man who'd brought her from that nightmare. Who'd freed her. The man who'd just given her the best o.r.g.a.s.m-or three-that she could remember having in this century.

His scent was on her. Her scent was on him. She'd marked him. He'd marked her.

Her lips began to curl. How perfect.

Werewolves were always so territorial. So driven by emotions and needs. By rage. By possessiveness.

Sometimes, their strengths could be weaknesses. Weaknesses that she could use in her battle.

Her frantic heartbeat began to slow down.

She stared up at the cracked ceiling above her, and her hands were still locked around Jamie. When she went to Latham, she'd be carrying Jamie's scent on her. Revenge, step one.

Not yours, Latham. Never that. Despite what Latham had done to her, she'd escaped. She wasn't the prisoner in his little trap any longer. Not his plaything for eternity. She was free.

And she'd just f.u.c.ked his enemy.

Payback was coming for Latham, and it had just started...

Wait until I bring my nightmare to your door. She'd make Latham scream, plead, then...die.

"Are the stories true?"

Iona didn't glance away from the night sky when Jamie asked the question. She had her back to him. Her legs were drawn up, her arms curled around her knees, and she gazed up at the stars lighting the sky.

When he'd finally been able to speak-and move-again, he'd gotten her out of that back room. Out of the bar and to a safe place. A safe place that had a good bed and fresh clothing for them both. And more comfortable shoes for her. She'd smiled when he'd given her the shoes. He liked her smile. He liked having s.e.x with her a h.e.l.l of a lot more.

Having s.e.x with her...

Mind-numbing.

The pleasure had been deeper than anything he'd experienced before, and even now, he wanted her again.

If the stories were true, he wasn't the first man to feel this way for her.

"Which stories do you mean?" Her head tilted back, in what looked like an effort to better see the stars.

He sighed and eased down beside her. They were at a house Sean had found for him, a little place in the woods, and though Jamie had tried to get her inside the cabin, Iona had insisted on sitting outside. Sitting outside and gazing up at the stars.

He followed her stare for a moment, then glanced back at her profile. He much preferred that view. "Are you truly the oldest pureblood?" He asked after a moment of just watching her.

Pureblood...the term for vampires who were born, not made. Most of the vamps populating the world had been made or turned. They were humans who'd been bit, who'd taken vampire blood when they were near death, and who'd been reborn as something more.

But Iona wasn't like those other vampires. He caught her left hand. Opened the palm. His enhanced vision easily let him see the small mark in the middle of her palm. Those who were born to the blood often had that mark.

That mark...and a circle of gold in their eyes.

Since her eyes were pure gold, the lady more than met that part of the pureblood requirement.

Her slender shoulders rolled in a little circle. "There could be others out there, probably are. I just haven't met them."

"When were you born?" Jamie pressed.

Her gaze was still on the stars. "Long before men ever thought they'd travel up there."

"Iona..."

Another little shrug. "Around 600 A.D., give or take a few years."

He tried not to let his surprise show.

"I know, I look good for my age, right?" Her lips had curled into a faint smile.

Very good.

He found that he was curious about her. Maybe too curious. "How did you know...what you were?" He'd always known he was a werewolf. When p.u.b.erty hit, there'd been no surprise when he grew fangs and claws and had the urge to howl at the moon. Surrounded by others of his kind, it had been an easy transition for him.

"I got the first clue when one of my father's warriors stabbed me in the heart, tossed my body in a shallow grave, and left me to die." Her gaze drifted to him. The smile was gone from her face. "Yes, that was my first big clue. He left me to die, only...I didn't."

His hands clenched into fists. "Why did he do that?"

Her gaze turned back to the stars. "Have they traveled up there? While I was...under...did they travel more to the moon? Maybe to another planet? I've seen so much in the years I walked the earth, but I've always wanted to go beyond the sky..."

He caught her hand. Twined his fingers with hers in order to catch Iona's attention-and just because he wanted to hold her hand. "They've sent out robots. Rovers. They captured images of planets and stars. Searched and explored." h.e.l.l, he'd take the woman on a little NASA field trip if she wanted...after they were done with Latham. He'd make sure she learned every advance that had been made in s.p.a.ce exploration.

"It hasn't changed," she said, and with her free hand, she pointed to the sky. "Venus waits. Jupiter s.h.i.+nes. The constellations are just as they were. Clothes are different. Music. Technology. But up there...it all looks the same to me."

He squeezed her fingers. "Why did he stab you?"

"Because my hair wasn't gray. Because my skin hadn't wrinkled. Because I wasn't bearing children for my husband."

Her husband?

"Did I mention..." Iona murmured, "that my husband was the warrior who stabbed me?"

Sonofab.i.t.c.h. "No," Jamie bit out the words, "you didn't."

"Purebloods usually stop aging around twenty-five. Their bodies just...they freeze. I didn't realize that had happened to me, of course. I learned later that my father and my husband-they thought I was bewitched." Her lips tightened. "Or that maybe I'd even made a deal with the devil."

Blood Queen.

"When I got out of that grave, I made the mistake of running back to my people for help. You see, I still didn't get it. I thought my father would help me. I was sure he couldn't have known what Tylar had done. I was so scared and..." Her stare dipped to Jamie's throat. "Hungry."

Because her vampire side would have kicked in with all of the blood loss she'd suffered.

"But my father knew. The attack had been his plan. As soon as he saw me, he ordered his guards to prepare the fire."

The fire. Jamie found that he couldn't speak. His hold tightened on her.

"The guards bound my hands. Tied me to an old, rotting tree...put brush around me, and it was my father...he was the one to bring the first torch to start the blaze."

The Blood Queen slaughtered a whole village. That was the tale he knew of Iona's birth. Whispers had told of a Born Queen who'd been so stricken by bloodl.u.s.t that she'd turned and attacked every person near her.

Only the story that Iona told was much different from what he'd heard. Jamie found that he didn't doubt her account, not for an instant. There was too much pain humming beneath her words.

"I begged for help," she said quietly. Her lips trembled. "So many were gathered around the fire, but no one would step forward to save me. No one."

Now her fingers were squeezing his.

"I'd never known my mother. My father...he'd said that she was attacked by our enemies shortly after my birth. But there were rumors about her. Stories that said my mother could do magic." Her long hair slid over her shoulders as she turned her head and gazed at him. "That day, I used magic, too. The fire should have consumed me."

He knew vampires were particularly susceptible to the flames. Their bodies burned so quickly.

"But I managed to control the fire. I don't know if it was my fear or my fury, but...something broke in me and I felt a surge of power." Her breath sighed out. "I got away. I ran and I ran and then I realized...he'd always hunt me. My father wouldn't stop searching for me because, to him, I was some kind of-of punishment."

"Punishment? For what?" He didn't understand, but he sure would have enjoyed doling out some justice to her s.a.d.i.s.tic father.

"For killing my mother," Iona said in a soft, sad voice. "Our enemies didn't kill her. I found out that truth too late. She died by my father's hand."

She'd had one sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a father. Family. Sometimes, you couldn't live with them...

And sometimes you needed to kill them.

Iona kept talking, and she didn't try to pull her hand from his.

Good. He liked holding her palm against his. "My father always wanted immortality. Wanted to rule all the land he could find. He thought my mother could help him, and when she didn't, he made sure she could never use her magic to help anyone again."

He couldn't believe how dark her origins were. A heavy ache had grown in his chest as he listened to her tale.

"It was him or me," she said, and, sure enough, that stubborn chin of hers kicked up. "I knew it, so I went back to my father's land. I slipped inside and made my way up to kill him."

And she had. He knew that, at least, this part of her legend was true.

"I had my knife at his throat, but I couldn't do it." Her head sagged a bit, as if she were shamed by the memory.

Well, h.e.l.l. So that part wasn't true, either?

He'd suspected from the moment her golden eyes first opened that she wasn't the evil b.i.t.c.h that rumor and legend had made her out to be. Now he knew for certain.

And that knowledge made him feel...lost.

What have I done to her?

"He laughed at my weakness and stabbed me with his sword." Her left hand went to her side, as if touching a wound that had to be over fourteen hundred years old. "He was coming to cut off my head. H-he said that would be the way to end me."

Her father had been right. Even a pureblood vampire wouldn't be able to rise from a beheading.

"He'd killed my mother by taking her head. He told me that..."

Had her mother been a pureblood, too? It was possible. Maybe Iona's father hadn't killed her mother because the woman was a witch. Maybe he'd killed her because she was a pureblood and she'd refused to turn him into a vampire? Then the hate had eaten at him, until he'd unleashed his rage on his own child.

"As his blade came for my throat, as I felt my own blood pouring from me, and saw death coming..." Her breath whispered out. "The woman I'd been, she died. The vampire inside of me-she lived. She killed. I took that sword. s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him. Then shoved it right back into his heart."