"Spread your legs for me," he told her, watching her shift, relishing the play of her muscles as she opened herself to his gaze. He used one finger to pull the cotton crotch out of his way, discovering a light dusting of dark curly hair over more delicate pink flesh, and with two fingers of his other hand he explored the plump outer curves of her labia. She was all damp and flowering, his Samantha, her hips moving in a small, subtle roll as he parted her with a fingertip and found the narrow, tight place that made his fingers ache.
Lucan might have looked at her for the rest of the night, had her hand not found his to urge him against her. He bent to press his mouth to her thigh, and then rested his face against it as he slowly pushed one finger up inside her.
Samantha made a low, keening sound.
"Yes." He penetrated her as deeply as he could, feeling the clench of her against him, sliding through wetness and tender, swollen flesh until the tip of his finger brushed the mouth of her womb. Slowly he drew his hand back, easing out of her, and then entered her again, this time with two fingers.
His hands were big, and she was tight; he knew he was stretching her as he fit her to his palm. When he had his fingers inside her as deeply as they would go, he put his mouth to her, opening her again with his tongue, caressing her and tasting the silkiness his fingers were drawing from her as he pushed them slowly in and out, fucking her with his hand.
"Lucan." Her fingers were in his hair, restless, tugging.
He used his fangs to tear the panties from her, and worked his tongue against her until he felt her thigh muscles tense and strain. Sinking his two fingers into her, he pushed his thumb up and into the tight cleft of her buttocks, opening and working it into her there.
Samantha cried out, a beautiful sound of longing and wanting and a little fear, and then she came on his hand, writhing under his mouth, drenching his fingers as she squeezed them and tugged them deeper with the contractions of finding her pleasure.
Lucan rode her climax, licking and petting and stroking her to another, and when her head fell back, he slowly withdrew his fingers from her body. His entire hand was wet from her, and he painted her breast with the satiny proof of her satisfaction before he stood and began shedding his own clothes.
Through dazed eyes she watched him undress. "What are you doing to me?"
"Everything." He stood for a moment by the bed, as naked as she was, looking down at her. He put his hand around his cock, stroking it as she watched. "I'm going to fuck you, Samantha. It's what I've wanted since the moment I first saw you." He took hold of her hips and flipped her over onto her belly, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He curled one arm under her, lifting her hips as he followed the tight curve of her buttocks with his other hand. She was still wet, still seething with heat. He guided the head of his cock to where his fingers had danced inside her, and pushed it inside.
His fingers weren't as thick as his penis, so Lucan had to penetrate her by slow increments. He pushed into her, and then withdrew, forcing her to take a little more of him with each small, slow thrust.
"Oh, God." As he worked his way into her, Samantha's fists knotted in the dark satin of his sheets.
"You can take me," he murmured, reaching under her to cup her breasts.
She braced herself against the bed, pushing back against him, helping him penetrate deeper inside her. He had only another inch or two and their bodies would be fully meshed.
"I'm going to taste you again." He bent, curving himself over her until he could put his mouth to the nape of her neck. "Here, while I take you. Do you want that?"
Samantha pulled her hair out of the way, baring the side of her throat, the line of her shoulder to him. For a moment Lucan stilled, wanting to preserve the image in his mind forever. Then the aching hunger inside him swelled, and he put his teeth to her, sliding his fangs through her skin as he buried himself in her completely.
Her head fell back and she groaned, shaking uncontrollably as she reached her peak, and took him to his.
Lucan drank from her throat and poured into her body, and when he could take or give no more without harming her, he wrenched his mouth away and lay down beside her.
"Don't leave me alone," Samantha murmured.
No, he wouldn't be doing that. Not for the rest of her existence.
Lucan held her to him with the hands that had been denied the simple comfort of touch for so long, stroking her with them as she drifted to sleep, and stared past her at windows Burke had replaced. It took a few minutes to realize what was wrong with them.
I trust you.
Every glass pane in the brand-new windows was covered with a spiderweb of brand-new cracks.
Chapter 18
Alexandra woke up expecting to be alone, although she didn't know why. She felt warm and contented, as if she'd been basking in the Florida sun all day. Her eyes weren't swollen shut, though, so she assumed she hadn't.
"Faryl attacked Lucan and his men," she heard Phillipe say in French outside the door. Thanks to her lousy French, she could make out only a little of the rest of what he said, but the gist of it seemed to be that Faryl had escaped into the swamp, and hunters had been sent after him. There was also something about the Brethren, but she couldn't make out that part.
"Send three of our men to aid them," Michael said. "Gard and I are going to check the churches. He thinks Faryl may try to enter one to pray."
Alex opened her eyes as Michael came into the bedroom. She rolled over to see him set a case on the table beside the bed and open it, revealing an extensive collection of daggers, through which he began to sort. "I hope you're not planning to use one of those on me."
Michael sheathed the long, wicked-looking hunting knife with a copper-coated blade and set it aside before coming to her. "Why would I wish to do that?"
She smiled up at him, lifting her face for his kiss. "I don't know. I'm usually in the doghouse for something." She stretched, and tried to draw him down on the bed beside her. "Bored with me already?"
"Never." He gave her a rueful smile. "I must leave you again, ma belle. Faryl was seen on Bahia Mar last night. He attacked Lucan and his men, and killed two Kyn before escaping. Gard and I are going to the swamps to aid the trackers."
That wasn't what he'd told Phillipe, but maybe he meant after he checked the churches. "Faryl got away from big, bad Lucan? So much for his rep. Did the Brethren mess it up?"
"Three attacked while Lucan was trying to subdue Faryl," Michael said.
"Bastards have the worst timing, don't they?" She yawned and sat up. "Can I come out and play, too?"
"With Faryl on the loose, and the Brethren involved, I would rather you stay here with Phillipe and the guards." He kissed the top of her head. "You do not wish me to be distracted by worrying about you, yes?"
"I do not wish, yes." She pulled on her robe. "Have fun. Don't be very late, either, or you'll have to wait until tomorrow night before I molest your body."
"I will return in fifteen minutes," he assured her. "Perhaps ten."
Alex went into the immense master bathroom and indulged herself over the next hour with a bubble bath and a pedicure. While her toenail polish dried, she experimented with new ways of doing her hair. She'd never be like Marcella Evareaux, who could tie back her raven tresses with a piece of frayed jute cord and make men swoon, but since living with Michael she'd found some magazines and tried to look a little more feminine.
It was more for Michael than anything, but she had to admit, since moving in with him, the whole hair/makeup/clothes girl thing was starting to grow on her.
Another thing that had changed: her hair. Thanks to the strange spurts caused by her mutated metabolism it was four inches longer than it had been yesterday. The occasional Rip van Winkle effect also made her fingernails grow overnight. One evening she'd woken up, tried to rub her eyes, and nearly gouged out an eyeball with the six-inch nail that had sprouted from her index finger.
She couldn't do anything with her hair this long, so she took a pair of shears from the bathroom cabinet and went to hunt Phillipe.
The seneschal was in the kitchen, his favorite room in any house, arranging flowers.
"Pretty." Alex came over to admire the large basket of colorful tropical blooms. "If we need some extra money for the jardin, I'm opening you a florist shop."
Phillipe added a twig of vivid red-green-and-yellow crocus leaves to one side and viewed his handiwork critically. "Tropical plants are interesting, but I prefer working with roses. They are more orderly than these wild things."
"Oh, you're always sucking up to the boss." She set the shears on the table. "Have you got time to give me a trim?"
"Of course." Phillipe retrieved a towel to drape around her shoulders, then brushed out her hair. "Four and a half inches in one day. A new record."
"Mmmmm." Alex closed her eyes and enjoyed the soothing motions of the brush through her curly hair. "Why does it always feel better when someone else brushes your hair?"
"It is one of the first things our mothers do for us," he said. "Mine always devoted a few minutes each morning and night to combing my hair."
She was charmed. "What a great mom you had."
He picked up the shears and began snipping. "In my time, it was more to remove nits and lice than for grooming."
"She must have really loved you. I'd have just dipped you in RID." Alex looked down at her fingernails. They were still the same length, but she hadn't bothered with a manicure for a while. She had been in such a rush to get down here for… something. She frowned. "Phillipe?"
He had the comb in his mouth. "Hmmmm?"
"Why am I here?"
His hand went still for a second before he continued cutting. "Because you wished me to trim your hair."
"Here in Florida."
"You are here to be with the master while he and Paviere hunt Faryl." He was trying too hard to sound casual. "You did not wish to be left behind, as always."