The Warrior Vampire(74)

No more stolen moments. No mere glimpses of her naked body before someone or something intervened. And no more wanting—needing—her and knowing that he would end up unfulfilled. Fuck Siobhan and her troths. The thing seething inside of him grew more powerful by the hour. Either way, he was dead. Ronan refused to go into whatever afterlife awaited him before he held his mate in his arms and made love to her. Bound himself to her. Forever.

Ronan kissed Naya deeply, his tongue sliding against hers. She tasted like heaven, sweet, fresh spring rain. She kept her legs wrapped around his waist and she released her grip on his shoulders only long enough for him to strip off her shirt.

“We can’t, Ronan.” He kissed a path across her collarbone and over the swell of one tantalizing breast. “Your troth.” He jerked the cup of her bra aside and captured her hardened nipple in his mouth. Naya gasped, her nails biting into his shoulder. “We have to wait.”

He pulled away, scraping his teeth over her sensitive flesh as he went. Her answering moan vibrated down his shaft and he reached behind her, his fingers fumbling in his haste to rid her of her bra. The scent of her arousal bloomed around them, a rich, exotic perfume that dizzied him. “Let the blood burn through my veins. I will not wait another gods-damned second to have you.”





CHAPTER

22

Ronan dragged the straps of Naya’s bra down over her shoulders and she shucked the garment as though it were on fire. She reached for his T-shirt, clawing at the soft cotton in her effort to shove it up his chest and get it off him. She could no longer deny this bond between them, the connection that burned with the heat of a solar flare whenever she was within touching distance. His words. The vow he’d made. The tether that had once been so tight and was now an open doorway between them convinced her once and for all that it was time to stop resisting what her heart had been telling her all along. The vampire had been made for her.

She could understand why Siobhan had tricked Ronan into promising his body to her. He was magnificent. What female—dhampir or otherwise—wouldn’t do anything in her power to keep him? Naya’s palms traced the topography of defined muscles, over the swell of his pecs, down the ridges of his abs that twitched and tightened in response to her touch. He held her as though she weighed nothing, and Naya had never been more painfully aware that he would never, ever let anything harm her. Even himself. Ronan would die—would let Luz run her dagger through his heart—before he’d let the darkness inside of him win.

“I want you to take off all of your clothes and lie down on the bed, Ronan.”

A wide grin lit up his face, showcasing the dual points of his fangs. Naya suppressed a pleasant shiver. Sex personified. She couldn’t let him shake her focus. At least, not yet. “Gods, how I love a commanding female.” She slid down from his embrace and Ronan’s brow furrowed. Silver rimmed his irises, so beautiful. “Commanding is one thing—cruel is another.” He lunged for her, but Naya skirted his reach.

“Do as I say,” she instructed.

He unfastened his pants and slowly lowered the zipper. “Going to cuff me to the bed again?”

Dear gods. The mental image sent a pleasant rush of sensation that settled between her thighs. “Would you let me?” Her gaze was riveted to his body as she backed slowly away toward the dresser at the far side of the room. She memorized every bulge, every groove, from the cut of his torso to the taper of his lean waist and the trail of hair that plunged below his waistband. He shucked his pants with a wide sweep of his arms and Naya sucked in a sharp breath as she took in the sight of his erection jutting from between his thighs.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

He was a masterpiece, cut from marble. Her gaze drank him in and she swore he grew even harder from her unabashed attention. “I’m at a disadvantage here. Quid pro quo, don’t you think?”

He wanted to watch her undress? Naya wasn’t exactly self-conscious. The Bororo might have mandated their pairings, but they didn’t force their people into celibacy. Still, to be held in place by his intense silver gaze while she undressed? Naya would probably burst into flames before he managed to put even a finger on her.

“Quid pro quo,” she agreed. If her plan was going to work, she needed an arsenal of magic at her disposal. She didn’t think that a blood troth was something easily thwarted.

Ronan stretched out on the bed and tucked his arms behind his head. So confident. So damned smug. Naya didn’t think she’d last the time it would take to call on her magic. The sight of him, hard and ready for her—gods, she wanted to ravage him.