Page 16 of Red Queen

Instead, I cross to him. He laughs softly at my hesitation and pulls me in, tangling his hand in my hair and pulling so my face is tipped to him.

He takes my mouth in a crushing kiss, one that invades, made to dominate and even here he shows his gifts of warcraft. He shows how he’s studied me, that he knows my weaknesses and anything that causes me to come apart, to crack open, even a little, is weakness.

At first, it’s full on. A bloodletting of the soul, a vampire starved just enough to let the feral edges show, to rip flesh and crunch bone. It decimates.

The onslaught is wild and my edges start to soften, the throb of need almost too much.

But an onslaught is something I can stand up to. Something I know. I can give in, just enough to hold myself whole.

Alexandru knows this. He lifts his head. “A real submission of your control and self, Eleanna. I demand that.”

“Make me.”

For a moment time seems to stop. Just the beat of blood surging in veins, his heat burning down into me as his body is crowded into mine over me. “I want you to give.”

Then he does something wicked. He licks my skin, teeth and fangs scraping soft against my artery that he lays out before him with a tug of my hair, my throat exposed. He licks again, his control so stunning I can’t breathe. His fangs are on the precipice of puncturing skin, and I revel in that light touch. What I don’t expect, what I’m not sure I can forgive is the softness of his lips against my skin.

He kisses me slow and gentle, an underhanded feathery touch that seduces. He parts my lips, tongue stroking over mine,sensations sparking off every surface in me. And I chase the kiss as he pulls back, wanting more.

“Strip,” he says again, soft kisses against my mouth, throat, ear. And my fingers shake as I start to disrobe.

The vampire doesn’t fight fair. Those words push for release, but I swallow them down, too aware they stink like defeat.

He continues those slow, murderous kisses, ones that pretend at love. Pure seductive kisses he wields like weapons to get what he wants, and he does that blatantly, knowing I can’t resist his mouth. I never could.

The sipping kisses distract, and his fingers slide against my bare breasts, then down over my stomach until he touches the juncture between my thighs.

“Wet,” he says, the smug heat the kind I want to rip apart with fang and claw.

And yet I stand in the circle of him, my fingers caught in his clothes. He doesn’t let me remove them. Instead, his head rises, his silver gaze catches mine and it hooks in the pit of my stomach as he pins my hands to his chest.

Alexandru almost glows with carnal and savage delight as he drinks me in, and then, remaining clothed, pushes me down to the bed in the dimly lit room.

I should be furious. I should strike out. But I’m not. I don’t. Even as he insults me with that searing gaze, an urgency for his flesh races through me, burning down my walls and leaving me pure need, the ache too much.

Alexandru stands over me as he trails fingers along my naked thighs making my stomach flutter, my insides tighten.

“You see, Eleanna? You crave this, the power exchange. The momentary loss of control.”

I can’t deny the truth in his words. He moves about me, the silent command to remain still as loud as thunder in his gaze and I quiver before him. He traces patterns on my skin, eachtouch designed for pleasure. The slight scrape of nails or twist of fingers on my flesh send sparks of bright pain through me. And all of it sends me tumbling into a maelstrom.

“Do you understand now, Eleanna? That you require my guidance, my direction?”

My breath hitches, caught between desire, pain and defiance. “Yes…” I whisper.

I don’t mean that. I can’t.

He grins, the curve of his lips dark and dangerous. “Good. Now turn on your stomach and remember, your releases are mine.”

Hate surges, the urge to please him, too. And I know he has the upper hand. It doesn’t matter I resent this; I want it more and I do as asked.

He moves about, his shadow dancing in the candlelight. Then it disappears. I go to move my head.

“Don’t.”

He’s back, and something soft—leather—trails like a tease over my back, and I whimper.

“Spread your legs wide and raise your hips.”

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