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Her fangs lengthened and her aggressive vampire nature took over with a vengeance. Hunger tightened her gut—hunger for the blood of her mate. She could barely keep the urge contained as he fucked her thoroughly. She longed to put his back to the rock face and bury her fangs in his throat. Drink until he came all over her belly from her feeding alone.
One day, she would do just that.
That fantasy, and the reality of now, pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm hit with brutal force, and she screamed, uncaring whether anyone heard. Pure joy washed over her again and again as Nick buried himself as deep as possible and jerked inside her, filling her womb with liquid heat.
Never had sex with any man been so raw. So explosive.
“Oh, my gods,” she whispered. “I can’t wait for us to make love while I feed on you. I want to taste you so much right now.”
Against her back, he stiffened. And as her brain began functioning properly again, she realized she’d said exactly the wrong thing. He slipped from her body and pulled back. Quickly, she turned to face him, taking in his pale cheeks and the fear in his darkened eyes.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you need time—”
“No.”
That word, so cold and final, struck fear in her soul. She reached for him. “I know what you’ve been through, and I won’t push for more than you can give.”
He laughed, and the sound was bitter. “And what if I can never give you more than a good fuck?”
That hurt. But she knew he was afraid. “I don’t believe that. You need time, and I promise I can be patient.”
“Don’t you understand?” he asked, chest heaving. “Darrow ruined me. I can’t stand the thought of a vampire’s fangs piercing my skin. Even yours. The idea repulses me, Calla.”
“Oh.” The word escaped as a soft sound, as though she’d been stabbed. Tears flooded her eyes and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to get away. From him, and this place that should’ve been so special to them.
She stood frozen as he gathered the remnants of her clothing. Couldn’t breathe as he pulled her from the waterfall and back onto dry land. He handed her the bundle, his expression stoic.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to find these,” he said. “No telling what they might think.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. You’re my mate.” Her bold declaration was met with a grim stare.
“And you’re mine. But I’m not fit to be your mate. Not now, maybe not ever.”
She tried to hold back the tears, but they fell anyway. “You’re going to run from me without even trying? Is that it?”
“Not running,” he insisted. “I just need time. Time to think. I don’t know if I can be the man you need.”
Her voice broke. She couldn’t help it. “I know you already are. But you have to know it, or we won’t work out.”
For a moment, he looked like he might take her in his arms. Instead, he nodded toward her mountain home. “I won’t leave you out here alone. Go, before your brother or a guard comes looking if they haven’t already.”
It wouldn’t do any good to stand here and argue with him. Not with their emotions so raw. As much as it hurt, he was right—he had to come to terms with what Darrow had done to him before he could accept his place as her mate. And accept her as his, with all that entailed.
“All right. But this isn’t good-bye, Commander. Not by a long shot.” Wiping her tears, she pinned him with a determined look. “I don’t give up easily and I don’t think you do, either.”
“Until later,” he said.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Lifting her chin, she teleported away, leaving him standing there looking as lost as she felt. Seconds later, she was in her private quarters, alone. Without Nick. Not the ending she’d imagined after the wonderful lovemaking they’d just enjoyed.
Tossing the bundle of tattered clothing on the floor, she walked to her bed and sat down, staring at a picture on the wall. Not just any picture, but one of her and Stefano, taken decades ago. They’d been so happy, so in love.
After his murder, she had never hoped to find another mate. She hadn’t wanted anyone else, ever. Then she’d met Nick at that party, placed her hand in his. Looked into his eyes, and was gone. She’d known instantly what he was to her. Or what he could be, if only. Now it seemed as though fate had gifted her with another mate, but one so damaged he might never open himself to happiness.
She’d lost Stefano. She might lose Nick before they began.
Unable to hold back the flood, she let herself indulge in a good, hard cry. She sobbed until she was hiccupping, finally cried out. Though she felt better, crying solved nothing.
