Soon she was moaning every few seconds, rolling her hips in circles, seeking his thumb on her center. He gave it to her. For a moment. She cried out in relief—and then groaned in distress when he took the pressure away.
A third finger joined the other two, in and out, in and out. Stretching her, spreading that sweet, sweet dew. When her muscles tensed, ready to lock down in climax, he severed all contact.
“Please!” she shouted.
Such a succulent entreaty. He used the hand wet with her juices on his cock, slicking himself up. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, loving the pressure as much as Jane had. Needing it. He stroked up…down….
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Her legs wound around his back, her ankles locking just above his ass; she tugged him down. Without anything to balance him, he fell on top of her. She gasped when his weight hit. “Please, Nicolai. Do it.”
“Yes,” he rasped. He couldn’t wait a second more, either.
He guided his tip to her entrance and thrust, deep and sure. They cried out in unison. Then she was coming, clenching around him, driving his need higher…higher. More, he had to have more. Wanted to bite her, wouldn’t let himself bite her.
Instead, he sank his fangs into his own wrist. Blood laced his tongue. Blood still flavored with Jane. He wanted to suck, but he forced himself to release his vein and hold the wound over Jane’s mouth.
“Drink,” he commanded. They would do this every day. Would never risk her losing the ability to move between worlds.
Obeying, she closed her eyes. She looked as if she were…savoring? Oh, gods above, she was. The very idea sent his need soaring. His testicles drew up tight. Any moment now, he would explode. He wanted her with him, though, all the way.
“Harder, Jane,” he said, even as he increased the speed of his thrusts. He hit her so damned deep, making her gasp, but she never stopped drinking, and soon her hips were once again rising up to meet him. She was gulping greedily, moaning with every swallow.
My woman. Mine.
Maybe he’d shouted the words. “Yes,” Jane responded, inner walls closing tighter and tighter around him as her second orgasm rocked her. “Yours.”
This time, there was no holding back. She milked him, and he gave her every drop, shooting it inside her.
They clung together for several minutes, hours, years, shivering and shuddering until finally sagging to the floor. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, couldn’t quite form a rational thought, but even then he knew he didn’t want to hurt her and rolled to his side.
“I thought I was turning into a vampire, then convinced myself I wasn’t,” she said sleepily. “But I must be. Your blood…it tastes so damn good. I’ve been craving it, like a drug. And now that I’ve had more of it—” she shivered “—I feel so good.”
He frowned. He hadn’t known such a thing was possible. Unlike the nightwalkers, he was a living being, born rather than created. Making others simply wasn’t—hadn’t been—possible.
Besides, even if he’d wanted to share his blood with others, which he hadn’t, his human lovers had not wanted to drink from him. In fact, they had found the very idea disgusting. Same with the witches, and same with the shifters, though their objections had stemmed more from contamination of the species.
“You crave all blood or just mine?” he asked.
“Just yours. Though the thought of drinking from others isn’t as abhorrent as it should be.”
“Any other symptoms?” He liked the thought of sharing this with her, but the complications scared him to his soul.
“My skin is a little more sensitive than normal. More sensitive than yours, I think. But, if I’m becoming a vampire, a heightened sensitivity would make sense because I haven’t yet had time to adjust.”
How many other humans would tell him that becoming a vampire “makes sense”? He almost smiled. Almost.
He would have to teach her how to feed, just in case they were parted for any amount of time. He tensed at the thought of her mouth on someone else. It’s the only way. Cutting through a vein was not a skill you developed naturally, but one you had to learn.
“How do you feel about changing?” he asked.
“A little afraid. A little excited.”
“Tell me if you experience any other signs.”
“I will.”
He kissed her temple. “Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
“And we’ll kill Laila?”
See? Jane knew him better than anyone else he’d ever known. “Yes. We’ll kill Laila.” He wondered if he could draw Jane into the dream, guarding her, preventing Laila from lashing at her while she was defenseless.
“Good.” Her warm sigh caressed his skin as she snuggled more firmly against him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She fell asleep, and he began to plan their future together, ignoring a sudden and intense sense of foreboding.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THEY DRESSED QUICKLY, quietly, and Jane packed a little bag of necessities. Such as the book—Nicolai had been overjoyed to see it—a few robes, snacks and a canteen of water. Laila had not brought any weapons for Odette to use, a fact that disappointed Jane but didn’t surprise her.
“How are you going to invade her dreams?” she asked Nicolai.
“I’ll tell you all about it.” He moved in front of her and gripped her shoulders. Once again he wore the slave’s mask. “When I’m done.”
She knew what that meant—he would be in danger—and her answer was hell, no. “I’m going with you.”
He sighed as if he’d expected such a response and had already resigned himself to it. “I do want to take you into the dream with me, and I will try to do so. Having never done something like that before, I don’t know if it will work. Meanwhile, I want you to stay here.”
“Why?”
He flicked his tongue over an incisor. “If I can’t force her to harm herself, I’ll have to absorb her powers. All of her powers and all the spells she has cast upon herself.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”
A stiff nod. “Most likely I will have to go that route. I tried to invade her dreams while you were sleeping and encountered an unexpected resistance. If the resistance is still there, while I’m in close proximity to her, I’ll have to do something to lower her guard to steal her magic. Something…nonviolent.”
She began to understand, and wanted to throw up. Or maybe throw a punch. “Like…kissing her?” Or more?
Another nod, this one barely discernable.
“You can’t just stab her?” she asked hopefully.
“Not without dying myself. She’s cast a spell that causes any injury I attempt to inflict on her to be directed at myself.”
“Okay, so that’s out.” Jane nibbled on her bottom lip, felt the cuts already there and realized she had been doing a lot of nervous chewing lately. “That explains the power I felt wafting from her, I guess.”
“You felt that?”
“Yep.” She squared her shoulders. “And okay, fine. If you have to kiss her, you have to kiss her. And believe me, I do not envy you. That’s taking one for the team a little far. I mean, I think I’d rather endure the stabbing myself instead of having to kiss her.”
He nearly choked on a laugh. “This is not funny, Jane.”
“I know.” But she’d much rather he laugh than worry over her reaction. “As long as you survive, I’m good with the plan. Please tell me you’ll be able to hurt her once you absorb her powers.”
“Yes.” Absolute determination radiated from him. “I will.”
“Then I guess sticking your tongue down the devil’s throat has a nice enough payoff.” She punched him in the arm. “Good luck, tiger.”
He laughed again, this time far less strained. “Thank you. Now. Will you please stay here?”