There was so much it took them several minutes to finish.
“So,” she broached when they were done, “how are we going to do this?”
She was nervous. She didn’t want to be but couldn’t help it.
He swooped down and picked her up, one arm supporting her back, the other under her knees. “First, I will carry you to our bedroom.”
“Ooh,” she crooned, wrapping her arms around his neck as he left the kitchen and put action to words. “I like it so far.”
“Then … I’m going to place you on our bed.”
She nuzzled his neck and felt a shiver ripple through him. “Go on.”
“Peel your clothing off with my teeth.”
Her body melted at his words as he descended into the basement and made his way to their bedroom. “What next?”
“Make a slow exploration of your body with my tongue.”
His tongue, she thought as he crossed to the bed. His wicked, wicked tongue. “And then?”
“And then,” he said, placing her gently atop the covers, “as your body clenches in one of the many orgasms I intend to give you”—he knelt on the mattress beside her, leaned over her, kissed the base of her neck where her pulse hammered just beneath the surface—“I will bite you right here and make you mine forever.”
She arched against him when he drew his tongue across her skin. “Mmm. Don’t forget the stripping me with your teeth part.”
He chuckled, a warm, growly sound that sent excitement skittering through her. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Roland was true to his word. With teeth, tongue, and hands, he aroused Sarah to a fevered pitch, distancing himself from his own desire and gently rebuffing her attempts to pleasure him, too. It was imperative that he keep a clear head, which meant ignoring his own needs and focusing solely on hers.
And, as her body writhed in orgasm for the third time, he gently sank his teeth into her throat and, exalting in the life that flowed into his body, devoured her like the monster he had so often been named.
Chapter 19
Okay, clearly Seth had never had the flu.
The first day of the transformation was about what Sarah had expected. Once she had regained consciousness (she had passed out while Roland was drinking from her and had no memory of him biting her), she had gradually begun to feel unwell. Mild fever. Chills. Nausea that was sometimes assuaged by the orange juice and club soda and other times brought it right back up again.
She had tried to keep Roland from following her into the bathroom (there were just some things she’d rather he not see her do, and vomiting was one of them), but he insisted and she rapidly grew too weak to prevent it. So he held her hair for her, physically supported her when she needed it, loaded up her toothbrush with toothpaste once her stomach had emptied itself, and when her mouth was minty fresh again, carried her back to bed.
He brought a television and a DVD player down to their room, played cards with her, read to her, regaled her with tales of his amazing past. He squeezed dozens of oranges, made sure she had plenty of fluids, soothed her aching head with gel pack after gel pack.
He was wonderful. Patient. Had an excellent bedside manner.
It made her love him all the more.
Then everything sort of … deteriorated on the second day. Her fever rose. And rose. Things got pretty hazy after that. Sarah later recalled very little of it. Just flashes here and there of Roland’s worried face peering down at her as he urged her to drink more juice. Hearing him shout flu my ass! and if you aren’t here in five fucking seconds … ! Being submerged in an ice bath with Roland’s big body behind her, his arms locked around her, both supporting her and restraining her as she thrashed about, his choked voice in her ear, murmuring over and over again that he loved her. A man with the darkest skin she had ever seen, dreadlocks down to his hips and the face of a pharaoh leaning over them.
There followed a large block of nothingness, during which her fever evidently broke. Midway through day three, she awoke lucid, her stomach settled, with a massive toothache.
Roland, who was slumped in a chair by the bed with one of her hands clutched in his, looked more haggard than she had ever seen him. His cheeks and chin were coated with dark stubble. New creases lined his forehead and bracketed his mouth.
His relief when she squeezed his hand and gave him a weak smile was heartbreaking. Climbing into bed, he spooned up behind her, buried his face in her hair, and hugged the stuffing out of her for at least half an hour.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered brokenly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
His lips brushed the back of her neck. “I love you, Sarah.” He pressed closer, as though he would burrow beneath her skin if he could. “I love you so much.”
Smiling, she closed her eyes as drowsiness slunk through her. “I love you, too.”
* * *
Seth and David were in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when they sensed Darnell’s approach. David paused in the midst of basting the organic Cornish hens. The knife Seth was applying to several carrots for a salad stopped slicing.
Both felt their human friend’s emotions fluctuating wildly and exchanged a concerned glance before turning toward the entrance.
When Darnell filled the doorway, he was carrying a sheaf of printed papers and looked shell-shocked.
“What is it?” David asked, setting aside his spoon and wiping his hands on a nearby towel.
Darnell’s throat worked as he swallowed audibly. “I finally managed to decrypt the files on one of the laptops you stole when you rescued Amiriska.”
The mystery woman had finally disclosed her name when she had awakened after sleeping for nearly two days.
Seth abandoned the knife and carrots as Darnell approached them. “And?”
“They’re all about Ami,” he said, pronouncing the nickname he had given her as one would Amy. “How long they held her. The tests and experiments they performed on her. Horrible, torturous experiments. And there were so many of them.”
Seth cocked his head to one side. “Do they say who she is? Where they found her?” She was powerful enough that Seth couldn’t read her mind and glean the information himself without her knowing. And he didn’t want to frighten her.
Slowly Darnell nodded. “You aren’t going to believe it. Hell, I’ve read it five times and I don’t believe it.”
Seth took the papers he proffered and held them so David could read them, too.
When Seth reached the first significant passage, shock filtered through him.
“Are you serious?” David breathed beside him.
Movement drew their gazes to the entrance.
Amiriska stood there, watching them, eyes wide, her pretty face filling with trepidation as she realized they now knew her secret.
Sarah smiled as Roland took her hand and twined his fingers through hers. Though there was only the barest sliver of a moon, she had no difficulty seeing and gazed with wonder at the night scene around her.
It was all so clear. As clear as it would be on a cloudy afternoon.
Tall majestic trees that thickened into a forest. Fireflies sparkling in their midst. A rolling meadow liberally sprinkled with low-growing wildflowers, many of which had closed their petals for the night.
In the center of it all rested their new home: a spacious one-story with an equally spacious basement and three escape tunnels similar to David’s. All had been completed in only a few weeks’ time, thanks to Chris and the network, while Sarah had adjusted to the changes taking place in her body.
As they strolled up the pretty cobblestone path that led from the driveway to the front porch, Sarah again marveled at the proliferation of scents that danced on the summer breeze. The most compelling, of course, was Roland’s. No cologne. Just soap and water and him. Yum.