“Yep,” she returned instantly now irritatingly glib. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t want any of this.” She threw an arm out, encompassing the room before it went back to push against his chest. “I don’t want any of what you said. And most of all, I don’t want you.”
His patience fled, anger replacing it. A great deal of anger.
He yanked her over his body so they were chest-to-chest.
His voice was low and cold when he replied, “I’ve an urge to call you on that last lie.”
He could see her anger was escalating at the same pace as his.
Therefore she ignored his threat and demanded, “Release me.”
His arms grew tighter. “Not until you’ve learned tonight’s lesson, my pet.”
“I don’t mean now!” she snapped. “I mean completely. Release me from our Arrangement. Find someone else’s head to mess with.”
Her words roaring through him, leaving behind that twisting, vile feeling he despised, he sat up suddenly and to accommodate him she was forced to straddle his lap.
She gasped in shocked surprise then tried to pull away.
“Stop struggling,” he demanded, his arm locking around her waist, his other hand fisting in her hair.
“Release me,” she shot back.
“That’s not going to happen, Leah.”
“You want me to give you everything. My trust, my body, my time and you think I should be grateful because of some pretty clothes and a fucking great house?”
“You missed some things,” he returned.
“Oh yes, my blood,” she clipped.
“Yes, your blood and a great deal more.”
She stopped struggling against his hold and her angry face got close to his.
“Yes, I get that Lucien.” Her voice was an enraged whisper. “You don’t say it but I know what you want. And you can’t have it because I know, eventually, you’re going to throw it away. Therefore, it doesn’t mean one fucking thing to you, no matter how you pretty up the words. So I’m keeping it.”
Involuntarily, his arms tensed, He knew it was too much and he didn’t care. He felt her pulse soar as her breath went out of her.
“How can you say that?” he hissed.
Breathing with difficulty, she went back to her earlier theme. “Release me.”
“I’ve been waiting for you for twenty fucking years,” he reminded her.
“Don’t worry, Lucien.” Her tone was cutting. “I’m sure another sweet-smelling pussy will happen along.”
Controlling his fury by a very weak thread, he twisted. She landed on her back, him on top, his hips between her legs.
“You haven’t listened or paid any attention to a fucking thing I’ve said or done,” he grated.
“I haven’t missed one freaking thing!” she shouted in his face.
“You’ve missed everything. So I’ll say it so you can understand it. I’ve been waiting to have you since I knew you existed. But I’ve been waiting for someone like you for five fucking centuries.”
“I doubt the earth is going to crash into the sun anytime soon. You’ll get another chance.”
Good Christ she was stubborn.
He growled.
“Release me,” she demanded.
“No.”
“Release me!” she yelled.
“Never!” he shouted back.
His last word made her face change. It twisted, contorting in a look of pain so raw, so severe, it caught him off guard and translated into a kindred slash of pain through his gut that was so intense he felt instant nausea.
Which meant her fist connecting with his jaw came as a surprise.
His head wrenched to the side on contact and he stayed that way, looking unseeing across the room.
It didn’t hurt. She was a female mortal in a disadvantageous position on her back with him close.
But he was a vampire.
And concubines were meant to respect vampires.
He gave her her head in many things because he knew what he’d bought into when he’d selected her.
But she had just crossed the line.
Slowly, his head turned back to her. She was panting, her heart racing, rampant fear in her scent but obstinacy and rage was in her eyes.
“You struck me,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.
She ignored the danger in his tone, bucked and demanded, “Get off me!”
He did as she asked but only to sit at the side of the bed, pulling her roughly into his lap and locking her to his body with his arms.
She struggled. “Let me go!”
He shook her with enough force to get her attention. She stopped struggling, her eyes jerked to his and he heard her heart spike as her breath caught.
“Right now, Leah, you’re going to learn to respect me,” he whispered.
She opened her mouth to speak but he moved her so quickly whatever words she had died in her throat.
He twisted her so she was facedown on the bed, her hips in his lap, ass pointed to the ceiling.
She read his intent and reared up, screaming with terrified fury, “No!”
Silence, he commanded, her vocal denials stopped instantly but she kept fighting.
He thought it prudent to allow her struggles. She’d not thank him for this after and commanding her acquiescence through controlling her mind, he surmised, would be a tactical error. Silencing her cries was enough. He had enough of a battle on his hands, clearly not making any advances in the slightest, even after a head-to-head week followed by three of détente. He didn’t need her sincerely hating him instead of telling herself she did.
He positioned one thigh over both hers and held her down to the bed with his hand in her back. She pressed, pushed and bucked but he didn’t allow her to make any progress toward freeing herself.
Then his hand came down on her ass, sharply enough to make his point not enough to cause any real pain.
The instant the crack of his hand against her skin filled the room, she stilled completely.
He did this three more times. Each strike, her body jerked in response but she didn’t fight.
The next time his hand went to her ass, it was not to strike but to soothe.
“Do you get my point?” he asked quietly, his hand moving gently over her bottom, his gaze moving toward her head.
Her face was buried in the comforter, her hair splayed around her shoulders, arms stretched out before her, fingers curled into a pillow.
He watched her nod.
Now it was time to teach her another lesson.
His thigh lifted and as he suspected she’d do, she immediately sought escape. Moving her legs just enough to open them, his thigh descended, trapping her now-parted ones.
He watched her head jerk back and her fingers fist into the pillow.
He tugged down her panties, exposing her.
No, her mind called out to him.
Yes, sweetling, he replied.
As his hand moved between her legs, she tried struggling but he held her down. She kept struggling as he worked her and with a swiftness that gratified him but likely mortified her, she grew wet.
He continued working her until she dripped. Her movements turned from fighting to squirming, her hips lifting, her legs moving under his thigh, not for escape but to move further apart to give him more access.
He allowed this and carried on, her movements, the feel of her, wet and silken, and her scent making his cock grow hard and start aching.
With better access and weeks between orgasms her movements quickly became urgent.
When he knew she was close, he lifted his thigh, pulled her out from beneath it and swept her panties from her legs. Then he tugged her up and settled her straddling his lap.