Page 126 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

“Look at me, little flower. Only me,” he begged. She straightened, opening her eyes to gaze at him. Whatever passed between them strangled him. Deep and fathomless. A connection that dug into his soul, fusing hers to his. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his chest, something cracked open—a place that had been sealed shut for so long he’d forgotten it existed. He shuddered against it, against the pain and pleasure and recognition. An emotion he didn’t recognize—hadn’t known for millennia. Not even in those few miserable years of his human life.

Her cunt tightened around him, squeezing his cock in the best way. His teeth clamped tight, until he could no longer stop the cry that tore from his lips. His cock hardened impossibly at the feel of her relentless, wild grinding. Black hair fell around her shoulders, contrasting her pale skin, framing her beautiful, soft face. He swept it back, wrapping it around his fist, holding it there out of the way for her as she took her pleasure. Took and took and took while he willingly gave.

Her face transformed, pleasure drenched and beautiful, repeating his name. He growled as she came, a soft, surprised cry parting her lips. He’d never seen anything so perfect, never would again.

He whispered her name, following her over the edge as he shattered apart, staring widely into her eyes mirroring his own shock. His cock spasmed, pulling another cry from his lips. He emptied into her, letting her see everything in his expression.

“Oh,” she whispered, eyes darting between his.

He couldn’t breathe—didn’t need to, but still, he couldn’t. He pulled her forehead against his and let their breaths mingle. “Lily,” he whispered. “Little flower. You perfect creature. You wretched, perfect creature. What have you done to me?” Words, unfiltered, poured from his lips. At some point, his language changed, switching to Italian, words of worship and devotion he’d never spoken to another soul pouring from his lips.

Her whimper said she understood him, even if the words didn’t translate.

Once he recovered, he repositioned them in bed, buried beneath blankets. His kisses were lazy, soft, ardent. He took everything he’d never been with anyone else and gave it all to her.

He buried himself deep and fucked her into the mattress, memorizing every sensation. Each returning gasp from her parted lips, each little mew, was a reward more precious than blood. He would never forget this, for as long as he lived.

“Why didn’t you drink from me?” she asked hours later. He’d propped his head on his fist to simply watch her, tracing patterns on her belly.

“Because I wanted you to know that this was more important to me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes flared.

He pressed his free hand against her chest, against her heart, which was still fluttering. He did that. It fluttered for him.

This perfect little creature had given herself to him when he didn’t deserve it, when he had done very little to atone. He would not squander that.

“I know things are new between us. And I know my past behavior was monstrous, wrong, destructive. But I want you to know that I will spend every day of my life working to make it right. It haunts me, what I did. It will always haunt me. But I won’t let it haunt you, too. Not if I can work to make it better. I…” He swallowed. “I don’t entirely know how I will do that yet, but I promise you I will keep trying, and perhaps some day, I’ll figure it out. You know that it will never happen again, don’t you? That I will never hurt you again. Never.”

Her eyes began to fill and he worried that he’d gone too far, dredged up too many painful memories.

“Tell me you believe me, Lily,” he begged. “Tell me.”

“Laurie.” His name, the sound of it made his stomach flip uncomfortably. “Laurent.”

“Tell me.”

“I believe you,” she said. Something in his chest relaxed. “I believe you,” she repeated.

The explosion of relief was enough to bring him to his knees if he hadn’t already been laying down. She lifted a hand and pressed it to his cheek, cradling it. No one had ever touched him quite like this, while looking at him the way she looked at him. Or perhaps a touch had never mattered quite this much.

31

The jet’s engine lulled me in and out of consciousness. I was stretched out on the sofa opposite Laurent, who sat at a table with his laptop and three others: Hassan, Marco, and Vittorio. The low hush of their conversation didn’t reach me. Other members of Laurent’s family sat scattered about the jet. The rest would take commercial and meet us in Italy in the coming days.

I still didn’t know exactly how many people belonged to House Sarkas—Vittorio had mentioned something in the hundreds once. An army, basically.

My eyelids drooped, the sight of Laurent going in and out of focus. I liked that I could see him from where I snoozed. I was groggy and exhausted. The past twenty-four hours had been a blur of training and last minute packing.

I’d gone to bed late, dripping with exhaustion. Laurent had come with hot chocolate and another plate of snacks, scones this time. I’d expected him to stay, hoped for a repeat of our activities from the night before. I’d spent the entire day lost in a dreamy state of fantasy, replaying the orgasms he’d given me. Instead, he’d excused himself ten minutes after dropping by, leaving me disappointed.

I’d sat there alone, reassuring myself that it wasn’t me. He’d wanted to stay. The tender way he kissed me suggested it, but he had a household to run and last minute matters to complete before our departure. I refused to take it personally, despite the inclination.

The sex had been significant for both of us. Unexpected, too. Not just because of what Zola had warned me of or what I’d witnessed in his memories, but because of the things it had done to me. A door in the recesses of my heart had been thrown wide open. I’d never known love. Never had someone who cared for me long enough to love them in return, except Ania, but that was a sisterly love.

This thing burning inside me was passionate and frightening and…dangerous. I’d taken Zola’s warning and tossed it out the window. Something told me I’d regret that later.

“Lily,” a voice murmured, accompanied by the light brush of fingers across my cheek. My eyelids fluttered open to find Laurent crouched beside me, his gaze darting over my face. My first look at him was like a punch to the gut. The softness in his expression put me in a chokehold. He caressed my cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.