Page 31 of Blood Submission
And she did. She stopped thinking, and let his fire consume her. His kisses were raw, hungry, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to overwhelm her. His hips rolled beneath hers, and she felt the heat of his arousal all the way through to her core, even through their clothes.
Dante rose up onto his knees and leaned forward, laying her back on the mattress without breaking the connection between them. Laney opened her legs as he settled his weight between them, even lifting her hips to seek him out, hating having the slightest bit of space between their bodies. His heat seared her everywhere he touched, and she reveled in the feeling of his weight pressing her down into the mattress. He kissed her over and over, demanding her submission, and she gave it to him. Laney arched her body, wanting his hands on her, wanting to feel his skin against hers, moaning in frustration when she didn’t get what she wanted.
Breaking off the kiss, he tangled his fingers in the hair on either side of her head. His eyes were feverish as they locked in on hers, his voice hoarse with need, the tattoos running down the side of his face ominous in the candlelight. “Tell me yes,” he commanded. “Tell me I can haveyou.”
Laney’s attention honed in on his extended fangs. A thrill shot through her as she imagined him biting her again, only this time in the throes of passion. She tried to find a rational thought in her lust-filled brain. One that would tell her that she was insane for even contemplating having sex with him. But she couldn’t hear anything past the wild hunger pulsing throughher.
“Laney….” Her name tore from his lips. His eyes roved over her face and settled on her mouth, his features tense.
Was she mad? “Yes,” she heard herselfsay.
With a ragged inhale, he stared down at her for a long moment as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. But only for a moment. A look of triumph lit his eyes, and he growled low in his throat and took her mouth again, touching her everywhere at once, as if making up for lost time. His hands were rough as they tore at her clothes, stripping them quickly from her body. She had no more time to think about what was happening. His frenzied need hung in the air around them like a living thing as he bared her body to his heated gaze with rapid movements. He made small, satisfied noises at each new reveal, sometimes baring his fangs. But strangely enough, she didn’t feel scared. She felt desired, and absolutely alive for the first time in a longtime.
The sting of his bite lanced her nipple, and Laney cried out, arching her back in encouragement. She stared down at the top of his shaved head as he began to suckle, part of her in disbelief that this was happening, part of her thinking that he was right—if she was about to die, this was the way to doit.
Removing his fangs, he tugged on her nipple, running his tongue over the wounds, then made his way down her body to pull off her sneakers and unfasten her jeans. Something pricked at Laney’s brain, something she should be worried about other than what she was currently doing. But as she lay there with her shirt and bra on the other side of the room alongside his black tee, she couldn’t focus on anything except the pulses of desire in her core that desperately needed to be eased.
Her jeans and underwear quickly joined the pile of clothes, yet she didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious. Laney rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache between them, her hands fisted in the blanket beneath her. The vampire rose up and sat back on his haunches to admire the sight before him. One hand reached out, and she felt the butterfly touch of his fingers on her belly.
His breath caught in his throat. Black eyes, churning with too many emotions to name, rose to meet hers. “You have a child,” he hissed.
* * *
She has a child.
Dante traced the pale stripes on her lower belly as long forgotten memories of his human life doused the flames of his desire and stole his breath. The skin had been stretched beyond redemption; hanging loosely between her hipbones where it hadn’t quite shrunk back to normal after the birth. It wasn’t ugly to him. Quite the opposite. This evidence of motherhood tore at hissoul.
It was beautiful. And heartbreaking.
Now he knew why she carried that book with her. It was a children’s book. “Where is the child?”
Laney was quiet. Too quiet. Tearing his eyes from the lines on her stomach and the dark, soft curls covering her woman’s mound, he searched her expression, but she turned her head away and refused to look athim.
“Where is the child?” he demanded, louder now. He tried to probe her mind, found it impossible. Her shields were up, and she hadn’t fed from him since the night before. The thought that he had torn a mother away from her child ripped away at what little was left of his conscience. It disoriented him, making it hard for him to focus.
Laney reached out blindly for the blanket and covered her nudeness as she scrambled out from underneath him. He felt her disappearing even though she was still right in front of him, and he automatically reached out to try to re-establish the connection between them. She shrunk away. “Laney, where is the fucking child?” He shouldn’t give two shits about the possible existence of another human. It shouldn’t matter. But he had to know. Taking her by the shoulders, he shook her hard enough to set her teeth knocking together. “Answerme!”
“He’s dead,” she wailed, the words ending on a keening cry. Clutching the blanket to her chest with one hand, she covered her face with the other and began to sob. Heart wrenching sounds that tore at his soul. When she could speak again, her voice was strained and watered down with her tears. “My son is dead.” She paused, pressing a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. “Because I killed him. I killed him because he wouldn’t be quiet.” Tear-filled eyes half-crazed with grief skittered about in the gloom. “He was just a baby.” This last was spoken so quietly, he barely heard her. Or maybe it was because of the ringing in hisears.
Dante stared at the female in front of him. Unable to link the self-professed murderer in front of him with the strong, but kind woman he’d observed over the last fewdays.
He, himself, was a killer, yes. And he took worthless human lives with elation. He could also spot others with a soul just as black as his from a mile away. Laney was not one of those people. She was not like him. She was good. He knew this in the deepest part of his soul. “No.” He denied what she had just said, though he sensed she was speaking the truth. “You wouldn’t do something like that. You must be mistaken.”
She raised swollen, red eyes. They were surprisingly direct as she spoke the next words. “I killed my own child.” Her mouth twisted in disgust. “I didn’t mean to do it, but I still did it. So the intent or lack thereof doesn’t really matter, doesit?”
She was looking to him for an answer that he wasn’t able to give. “The book belonged to yourson.”
She didn’t answer him. She didn’t need to. It wasn’t a question.
“What happened?” His curiosity surprised him. He’d never, ever before cared about what was going on in the lives of his current victims, past or present. But he found himself wanting to know everything about this female.
No. Not wanting to know. Needingtoknow.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat, and her expression was so forlorn he wanted to gather her up in his arms again and kiss her until she was able to think of nothing else but him. When she spoke, her voice was robotic. “He was only a few months old, and something was wrong. He wouldn’t stop crying.” She took a shaky breath. “I hadn’t slept for days. I was so tired. I just wanted him to be quiet for a few hours so I could sleep.” Her voice faded into a ragged whisper.
“What happened, Laney?” he asked again. Reaching across the space between them with his mind, he probed her memories. Intent on her grief, she didn’t block him, and he listened to her thoughts even as she spokethem.
“I was rocking him, and he finally stopped crying! He fell asleep.” A smile ghosted about her lips. “His little face was buried in my shirt, and I remember thinking that if he would just sleep, just stay quiet for a few hours so I could rest, then it would be okay.” There was a dazed look in her eyes as she remembered. “And when I woke up, he wasgone.”
