Read Online Eternal Beauty: Mark of the Vampire (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) by Laura Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Wright
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white towel wrapped around her body and was on the floor, easing her into his lap before she could say anything.
“Synjon?” she rasped.
Shite
. She was alive. In his arms. Her eyes open.
He rocked her back and forth like he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. “You all right? You all right, Love?”
“I think so.” She pressed herself tight against his chest, her soft cheek cold against his skin. “What happened?”
“You passed out. I’m so sorry, Petra.”
“It’s okay.”
The hell is was. He was a fucking animal, an animal with no self control. Her blood had been like a drug to his system. Even now, if he could get to it he’d take it.
He needed to bugger off. Now and for good. She wasn’t safe with him around. No female was.
“I’m so cold, Syn,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest, rubbing her face back and forth against one pectoral.
His blasted cock stirred. Teeth gritted, he started to get up. “I’ll take you to your bed. Get every bloody blanket on top of you.”
“No!” She looked up, her eyes wide and concerned. “The sun is high right now. It comes in through the windows like a bitch.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” she whispered passionately, her gaze traveling from his lips to his eyes. She shivered again and pressed herself closer.
This was wrong and torturous. He couldn’t have her starkers and curled against him for much longer and continue to stay sane.
She reached up and touched his face, her palm on his cheek. “I want to stay here. With you.”
Synjon released the breath held captive inside his lungs. “Petra . . . Pets . . .” The way she was looking at him, her eyes heavy with relief and gratitude and desire, it slayed him. It wasn’t a look of sexual desire—though if he searched deep enough in those pale blue orbs he knew he might find that too—but a look of desire for
him
—the male, the
paven
. She trusted him, wanted him, needed him near her to protect her and comfort her. His chest squeezed. It was so bloody honest and raw, that look. Vulnerable as shite. And he never wanted her to stop, to look away.
But she did.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she ran her thumb over his upper lip, catching the tips of his fangs in the process.
His growl reverberated off the walls of the dimly lit, forest-fragrant room and he forgot everything right and real. The fantasy before him beckoned and he could not deny himself. In a series of quick and possessive movements, he rolled her to her back, slid his body over hers, and took what he was truly hungry for.
* * *
Petra had never wanted anything more than Synjon Wise buried inside of her. She was totally and utterly inexperienced with mating, but as she wrapped her arms around his neck and she kissed him hard and with a deep and abiding need, she understood that being with a male—the right male—wasn’t about experience.
It was about connection.
Even if that connection only lasted for a short time.
The weight of him, the sweet weight of him, made the icy cold from a moment ago disappear and she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. His clothes were wet, but they heated on his body. And gods, what a body. Every inch of him that she could see, feel, or touch was powerful muscle under smooth skin.
She wanted to see him.
No, she wanted to feel him. Naked against her.
As he licked and nibbled at her lower lip, making hungry, sexual sounds she would remember and dream about for years to come, she managed to wriggle out of her towel and cast it aside.
“I want to feel you,” she whispered against his lips, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Make me warm, Synjon. Inside and out.”
He lifted his head and growled at her—a sound she felt all the way to her sex—then yanked the material over his head and tossed it against the side of the tub. He did the same with his pants, then moved over her.
Petra instantly wrapped her legs around him again, sucked air through her
“Synjon?” she rasped.
Shite
. She was alive. In his arms. Her eyes open.
He rocked her back and forth like he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. “You all right? You all right, Love?”
“I think so.” She pressed herself tight against his chest, her soft cheek cold against his skin. “What happened?”
“You passed out. I’m so sorry, Petra.”
“It’s okay.”
The hell is was. He was a fucking animal, an animal with no self control. Her blood had been like a drug to his system. Even now, if he could get to it he’d take it.
He needed to bugger off. Now and for good. She wasn’t safe with him around. No female was.
“I’m so cold, Syn,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest, rubbing her face back and forth against one pectoral.
His blasted cock stirred. Teeth gritted, he started to get up. “I’ll take you to your bed. Get every bloody blanket on top of you.”
“No!” She looked up, her eyes wide and concerned. “The sun is high right now. It comes in through the windows like a bitch.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” she whispered passionately, her gaze traveling from his lips to his eyes. She shivered again and pressed herself closer.
This was wrong and torturous. He couldn’t have her starkers and curled against him for much longer and continue to stay sane.
She reached up and touched his face, her palm on his cheek. “I want to stay here. With you.”
Synjon released the breath held captive inside his lungs. “Petra . . . Pets . . .” The way she was looking at him, her eyes heavy with relief and gratitude and desire, it slayed him. It wasn’t a look of sexual desire—though if he searched deep enough in those pale blue orbs he knew he might find that too—but a look of desire for
him
—the male, the
paven
. She trusted him, wanted him, needed him near her to protect her and comfort her. His chest squeezed. It was so bloody honest and raw, that look. Vulnerable as shite. And he never wanted her to stop, to look away.
But she did.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she ran her thumb over his upper lip, catching the tips of his fangs in the process.
His growl reverberated off the walls of the dimly lit, forest-fragrant room and he forgot everything right and real. The fantasy before him beckoned and he could not deny himself. In a series of quick and possessive movements, he rolled her to her back, slid his body over hers, and took what he was truly hungry for.
* * *
Petra had never wanted anything more than Synjon Wise buried inside of her. She was totally and utterly inexperienced with mating, but as she wrapped her arms around his neck and she kissed him hard and with a deep and abiding need, she understood that being with a male—the right male—wasn’t about experience.
It was about connection.
Even if that connection only lasted for a short time.
The weight of him, the sweet weight of him, made the icy cold from a moment ago disappear and she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. His clothes were wet, but they heated on his body. And gods, what a body. Every inch of him that she could see, feel, or touch was powerful muscle under smooth skin.
She wanted to see him.
No, she wanted to feel him. Naked against her.
As he licked and nibbled at her lower lip, making hungry, sexual sounds she would remember and dream about for years to come, she managed to wriggle out of her towel and cast it aside.
“I want to feel you,” she whispered against his lips, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Make me warm, Synjon. Inside and out.”
He lifted his head and growled at her—a sound she felt all the way to her sex—then yanked the material over his head and tossed it against the side of the tub. He did the same with his pants, then moved over her.
Petra instantly wrapped her legs around him again, sucked air through her
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