And he had a warrior’s body as well. His bunched upper arms were round as melons and near the size of her head. Each of his thighs appeared the width of her waist. Given the vampire strength within all that muscle, he’d be a formidable force on the battlefield.
A killer.
What if she could make him her killer? Amaris eyed him, considering the thick strength surging under her body, the wild black heat in his eyes.
A solid mount indeed.
Could she ride him? Could she trade him her blood for Marin’s freedom? Did she dare?
Black eyes stared into hers, highlighted with candlelit reflection in flashes of liquid gold. The male hunger in that dark gaze demanded her surrender with a trace of savagery, as if he eyed her while riding at the head of an army.
Not while he himself was bound and helpless.
Raniero’s lips parted in invitation. His breath smelled of honey mead. Unable to resist, she bent closer and kissed him again.
His mouth was soft, tempting, tangy with lemon, sweet with berries and honey. Amaris sighed, deepening the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, exploring the sensuality he offered.
Something sharp pricked her tongue, and she frowned faintly, wondering. Until realization struck.
It was one of his fangs.
He was a vampire. In the storm of emotion and heat, she’d almost forgotten.
Luscious as he was, so powerfully seductive as he lay there in pretended submission, he was a predator. And worse, he was a trapped predator. If she were stupid enough to offer him the magical blood he needed to break his chains, he’d be gone like a ghost at dawn. And she’d be left alone to confront Korban’s fury.
Vampires could not be trusted.
Anger surged in her, hot and sudden, spiked with helplessness. “Well,” she growled down into his startled eyes, “there’s one way I can use you.”
She rose onto her knees in her simmering frustration, scooted back, grabbed the waistband of his breeches, and jerked downward. His cock sprang free, its strong length shading into delicious pink, its head ripe as a plum.
Amaris grabbed that tempting thickness in one hand, rose over it, and impaled herself in a single breathless rush.
Sensation ripped away her breath. He felt incredibly thick in her slick inner grip. She hadn’t even realized she was so wet, so swollen with heat and need. Teasing him had aroused her as much as it had him.
Damn him to the six hells.
Bracing her hands on his chest, Amaris rose, teasing herself with the juicy slide of his cock. Rolling her head back, she sank, acutely aware of his deep, rumbling groan.
She told herself she no longer cared what the vampire felt. No longer cared if he moaned as she rode him. Cared not if his hungry black gaze lingered on her face, if his big hands clenched in desire, if his feet twitched in helpless reaction to her jogging strokes.
All that mattered was the impaling heat between her legs that spun such sweet pleasure every time she rose and fell. The vampire ground his teeth and rolled his hips to meet her, adding his fierce power to her strokes. But that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let it. Wouldn’t let him matter.
Vampires couldn’t be trusted. They lied. They hurt.
And they killed.
FIVE
Raniero ground his aching fangs as she rode him, head tossing until her curls teased his thighs. Amaris felt as deliciously wet as any fantasy he’d ever had, gripping him in a tight vise of feminine flesh. Each time she moved, jolts of pleasure surged straight up his cock and into his balls, drawing them tighter, hotter, until the raging need to come whipped him into a ferocious, heaving gallop beneath her.
Red God’s Balls, what she’d done to him.
Gripped in a fist of lust, Raniero watched her—the sweet, seductive bounce of the breasts he was dying to taste as they danced beyond his chained reach. Her torso rolled as she rode him, all elegant, slim curves, the long muscles of her thighs working as she jogged in easy strength. Her tattoo seemed to glow in shades of red and green on her cheekbone beneath the green flash of her eyes, and her lips pouted at him, inviting kisses he couldn’t reach her to give.
It was maddening to be so utterly at her mercy, driven to climax by her luscious body, gripped so intimately, yet unable to touch.
Orgasm struck him like a spell, a ferocious blast that convulsed his thighs and curled his hands into helpless fists. He arched beneath her, surging upward, her core sheathing his cock in slick, sliding heat. His seed exploded from him in a wave of fire that emptied his balls and dropped him back on the bed, bound and panting.
With one last high, sweet shout, she collapsed on top of him, panting, sweat slicking her skin.
For several long, stunned moments, they lay together like storm survivors. Raniero’s muscles quivered and jumped in helpless spasms. He was more than a little satisfied when he felt hers do the same.
At least he wasn’t the only one left wrung out and shivering. It had been the most amazing fuck he’d ever had, yet he found himself resenting it. Resenting her. She’d taken him like a camp whore in a ruthless possession.
He was the one who did the possessing, dammit.
She rose from his body, his drained sex slipping from her tight inner grip to plop on his sweating abdomen like a dead bird. Face averted, the Rose searched out the shift she’d tossed on the floor and shrugged it over her head. She tied the laces with hands that shook.
“Are you just going to leave me with my cock hanging out?”
She looked around at him as she stuffed her feet in her shoes. Her gaze dropped to his reddened, sticky organ. Blushing like a schoolgirl, the Rose reached down to drag his breeches up until he was decently covered again.
A moment later, the door banged shut behind her hem. He listened to the patter of her footsteps on the stone.
One of his guards said something he couldn’t make out, and the other men laughed in a nasty, knowing little chorus of chuckles that made Raniero’s face heat.
Bitch.
But Red God’s balls, he’d never had better.
Amaris fled down the stairs as if a squadron of Varil was on her heels.
She hadn’t even known her body was capable of . . . that. An explosion of ripe carnality so intense, she felt dazzled, as if she’d stared too long at the sun. Except she’d done the staring with every sense she had. Echoes of the vampire jolted through her body in hot pulses. She could still taste him on her tongue, hear his groans, feel the hard muscled heat of him between her thighs—and deeper, buried in her core, long and thick, an erotic invasion that made her shudder at the memory.
It was one thing to swive some vampire, another to imprint him on your soul. How had he done it? One fuck, and he’d driven himself impossibly deep, like a dagger between the ribs.
Bitter experience warned her to stay away from him. Yet Korban would demand she go to him again, use all her Blood Rose skills to seduce him into betraying his king.
She rounded the curve of the stone stairway—and almost slammed into a massive reptilian body. The Varil raiders hissed at her, evidently on their way up. In her agitation, she made no reply, instead turning sideways and slipping between the two, barely avoiding the claws that darted out in search of her flesh. They cursed her as she fled.
She reached the bottom of the tower stairs and escaped along the snaking corridor of the keep until she found her chamber. It was far from comfortable—a thin layer of rushes on the floor, a pallet that made her back ache in the morning, and a rough wooden bench before the fire. But as it also served as a vivid reminder of her status, it suited her just as well.