Warlord Wants Forever - Kresley Cole [25]
“We go for your belongings tonight.”
Chapter Seven
How are we going to do that?” she asked. “You can only trace to places you’ve been to at least once.”
“But I can drive anywhere,” Wroth replied casually, every inch a modern warlord.
So she was to return to her home in ripped clothing, with her skin still flushed from last night, her body still singing for a vampire’s touch.
Lovely.
She would never live this down. And for an immortal, never was a particularly woeful proposition.
Yes, going back to Val Hall would mean a possibility for escape, but he could kill one of her sisters if they tried to free her. When he rose and strode to his closet, she studied his body, noting yet again how incredibly strong he was.
He turned and tossed her a button-down, catching her gaze just as it drifted south to his hard shaft. She almost missed the shirt and he smirked, making her jerk her face away. “Come here,” he ordered and she dragged her feet over. His hands reached out to pile her hair up, just so he could lean down and breathe along her neck, then murmur in her ear, “Bride, this is embarrassing. I think I’ve caught you staring at my cock,” making her quiver. She’d teased him the same way when his eyes had been riveted to her neck so many years ago. He added in a sensual rumble, “You like it, don’t you?”
When the question sunk in, her eyes went wide with disbelief, the spell broken. How could he ask her that? When she would be forced to answer? His lips hovering over her shoulder, he said, “Answer me honestly.”
I want to curl up between your legs, rest my head at your hip, and draw you over into my mouth to taste you for hours, she almost said, then negotiated her mind into another honest answer: “It’s too big.”
He dropped her hair, smirking again. “So it terrifies you more than tantalizes?” he asked using the words she remembered well.
Knowing he was getting his revenge little by little, she gritted her teeth against her answer but lost. “Both.”
He clucked her under the chin. “I’ll be sure to break you in slowly, ride you easy the first few times.”
Myst of the witty banter and dripping sexual innuendo was speechless. Break her in? Arrogant! When he turned for the shower, she tried not to stare at his back and how it tapered to his narrow hips and his muscled ass with the hard hollows on the sides. She’d been right, it did beg to be clutched.
Damn her claws for curling—
“I believe you like everything about me,” he rumbled from inside the bathroom.
She gazed at the ceiling, embarrassed as she couldn’t remember ever being before. Of course he’d known she was staring, probably by the holes she was burning into his skin. As she dressed, she thought that he was right—she was tantalized, and she did like everything about him physically. The way he’d made her feel last night left no doubt in her mind that he could not only get her to ask for him inside her, but beg.
She needed to escape before then, before he “claimed” her. He hadn’t drunk from her and they hadn’t had sex. As long as those two things stayed sacred she could get past this patch in her life.
When he returned to the room, dressed like a male dream, she felt like shuffling her feet for her ridiculous getup, draped in his shirt that fell to her knees. She had never felt insecure before. But she didn’t have long to ponder it, because he put his hands on her waist. “Are you ready?” he asked, staring down at her. Ready? To kiss him, hug him, go to her knees? What?
He pulled her to his body, wrapping his arms around her. “Close your eyes,” he commanded. She did. “Open them.”
Suddenly, they were in a garage. This was the first time she’d traced and been able to think about the process. She’d dropped an intoxispell or two in her day and found tracing on par with that. She was unsteady at first, but the air smelled like bayou at high tide, which she liked, and was heavy with humidity. New Orleans, but where? “What is this place?” she asked, breaking