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“They say he has nearly one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers at his command now,” he replied—which was as large as Adrian’s army, except we had only brought half.
“So he and Julian have turned more people?” I asked. “My people.”
Adrian nodded.
I should have expected we would not reach Lara in time to save any of them. I wondered who had turned willingly and who had been forced.
“Do we have a chance against them?” I asked.
“Our army is far more skilled, and as you are aware, it takes time for vampires to develop their powers.”
It was not the answer I was looking for, but I knew Adrian was right. I had barely developed powers since he had turned me. The greatest change was my thirst. I would be better off fighting this battle in my aufhocker form than anything else.
It was an idea I had been toying with since we learned of Alaric’s invasion. I had gotten a taste of that form’s strength and power when fighting the vârcolac and nothing compared.
“But you are still worried,” I said.
I did not like when Adrian worried. He was usually so confident, overly so. He tapped his fingers against the tabletop as he stood near the fire, staring into the flame.
He did not respond to my statement, and he did not need to—I knew the truth. Instead, he began to undress, and as I watched him peel his soaked clothes from his wet, hard body, a delicious warmth simmered inside me.
Naked, he approached the bed, and as he sat, I turned toward him.
“We will each need to feed before tomorrow,” he said.
“You say that as if it is a bad thing.”
“It is not a bad thing,” he said, trailing his fingers down the side of my face. “Are you afraid of me?”
“I have never been afraid of you,” I said. “Even when I hated you.”
I was lying, but only a little. I had been afraid when Dis had taken him over. But I had been afraid, too, when she had tried to take over the night of Efram’s resurrection. I would not say those things aloud, and if he discovered them, it would have to be because he read my mind.
He smiled and leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you,” he said.
I smiled and placed my palm against his cheek. “Why does it feel like you are saying goodbye?”
“I just want you to know,” he said. “I want you to always know.”
I knew what he was doing—it was not a matter ofjust in case, it was a matter ofwhen I lose control.
I watched him a moment, wanting him—his come, his blood, his love. Those were the things that would make him mine, that he would remember in the face of Dis’s control. I worked my shift over my head, appreciating the way Adrian’s eyes darkened with lust.
Naked, I straddled him, and his hands dug into my ass as he settled me over his heavy arousal.
He tipped his head back to hold my gaze and I whispered over his lips, “Kiss me.”
His hands moved up, over my back and to my shoulders, and as his mouth found mine, he ground against me, his tongue matching the pace at which I moved against him. I moaned and started to push him back, but he shifted first and pushed me into the bed.
His hand swept down my body, and I widened my legs, desperate to feel his touch. I was swollen and hot and completely void, and when he ran his hand over my heat, he moaned, breaking our kiss.
“So fucking wet,” he said, and let one finger slip inside, then another. “Fuck.”
He sat back, gripping himself as he curled inside me. As he watched me, I moved my hand to my swollen and sensitive clit, teasing him at first but soon becoming lost in the sensation as I increased the friction against it.
I dug my heels in. I threw my head back, a guttural cry leaving my lips, and then Adrian’s mouth was on me while his fingers moved inside me, and with each thrust, each lick of his tongue, I felt myself breaking apart. I did not know how he could do this to me, how I could feel so grounded within my body, how I could feel the heaviness of my breasts and the heat inside me, the tightness in my muscles and the pleasure of his touch, but also have no control over my mind or the words and sounds that came from my mouth.
