Lucas (Vampires in America #6)

Lucas (Vampires in America #6) Page 38

Her face heated. “Oh, my God. This is what you do. Look at me! I’m up against a wall! Naked! And in full view of whoever happens by—”

“I told you. The glass is one-way.”

“Whatever. Put me down, you big oaf.”

“Oaf she says now. That’s not what you called me when you were creaming all over me a moment ago.”

“Lucas!”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like . . . I thought we agreed this attraction between us was unhealthy. You know, the whole fire and gunpowder thing?”

“I never agreed to any such thing. It is definitely explosive, however. A fast-burning flame. And the best way to deal with that is to let it burn out naturally. We need to spend several days having wild sex in every way imaginable. You know, to get rid of this unhealthy impulse.”

“You would think that. Besides, we tried that the other night as I recall. It obviously didn’t work.”

“Pfft. That was nothing, my sweet. A flame this hot needs more than a single night.”

“You’re just trying to get me back into your bed.”

“I don’t need you in my bed; I already have you up against my wall.”

She blushed again. He loved making her blush.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what? Are you not up against my wall?”

“Lucas,” she began sternly, then gasped as he began moving inside her, taking advantage of the moisture from her recent orgasm which had left her pussy warm and creamy and perfectly lubricated.

“Shall we set fire to the wall, a cuisle, or would you rather use the bed? It’s a very nice bed.”

Kathryn didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were closed, her expression dreamy as he glided slowly in and out of her sexy body. She licked her lips slowly, and it was Lucas’s turn to groan.

“You’re killing me here, Kathryn. If you want to move to the bed, tell me now, or it’s going to be too late.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Bed,” she managed.

Cursing the undignified position he found himself in—only Kathryn could have driven him so insanely hungry so quickly that he left his shoes on, his pants around his ankles—he nonetheless cowboyed up and delivered. Unwilling to pull away from Kathryn’s welcoming heat, he cupped her ass with his hands, holding her in place as he toed off his shoes, then stepped out of his slacks, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Kathryn’s legs tightened around him as he carried her to the bedroom, their mouths feeding on each other as if they hadn’t just brought each other to mutually screaming orgasms moments earlier. She was right about one thing. This attraction between them was hotter than any he’d experienced in his long life. And he could see it ending only one of two ways—either they’d stick for a while, maybe a very long while, although he wasn’t willing to go too far down that path, even in his thoughts. Or they’d burn out quickly and end up hating each other.

Either way, he thought, as he laid her on the bed and proceeded to strip off his jacket, shirt and tie while still managing to keep his cock buried inside her, he intended to have her in his bed every night as long as it lasted.

Kathryn scraped her fingers through the fine, black hair on Lucas’s chest. Lucas’s hard, muscular, gorgeous chest. Why couldn’t he have been a troll instead of a god? She’d have been in and out of South Dakota, no looking back, eyes straight ahead and looking for her brother, and then back to Quantico. Instead, she was all twisted up in vampires and secrets and one gorgeous lover. And, sure, she was making some headway in finding Daniel, but she was losing her heart in the process. She sighed.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Lucas grumbled, his deep voice sated and sluggish.

“Who says I’m thinking anything?”

“You sighed.”

“I breathed.”

He laughed. “If I said the sky was blue, you’d say it was green. Though, I haven’t seen the daylight sky in so long, it might well be green by now.”

“The sky is still blue. And I’m not that bad.”

“Oh, aye, you are. But I lo . . . can’t keep my hands off you anyway.”

Kathryn heard the catch in his sentence and wondered what he’d been about to say. She thought about possibilities and found herself smiling goofily. She hit the brakes hard on that thought. Time to change the subject.

“So, how old are you?” she said quickly. “I mean, you told me the other day that only lovers could ask that question, but I’m pretty sure I qualify now.”

“No doubt of that.”

“So, fess up, old man. How old?”

“I was born in Kildare, Ireland in 1785.”

Kathryn blinked. “But that makes you,” she did some quick math in her head, but Lucas beat her to it.

“Two hundred and twenty-seven years old, give or take a month. I was born in winter, that’s all I know.”

Kathryn sat up, staring at him in disbelief.

“You must have had some idea,” he said, gazing back at her calmly.

“No. I mean, well, yeah. But . . . I don’t think anybody, at least not anybody in authority, knows you’re that old. I mean . . look at you! I know twenty-year-olds who don’t look this good! Are all of you that old?” She knew she was rambling, but couldn’t stop herself.

Lucas only grinned. “You think I look good?”

Trust him to pick out the one flattering thing she’d said. “You have a mirror,” she said dismissively. “And I’m sure you spend plenty of time in front of it, too. So don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Fine,” he replied, sounding completely put upon. “No, not every vampire is the same age as I am.”

“Are you never serious?”

“Believe me, Kathryn. I can be deadly serious when the situation calls for it. But lying in bed, naked, with a beautiful woman I’ve just fucked until she screamed my name—” He laughed when Kathryn gave him a threatening glare. “—is not normally a time that calls for solemnity. However. Just for you, a cuisle.”

He pushed himself up on the pillows and put his hands behind his head. “There are many vampires younger than I am, and a very few who are much, much older. The important thing to remember when dealing with vampires, Kathryn, is that age and power are not necessarily the same thing. I’m two hundred and twenty-seven, and that seems old. But I have several vampires in my territory who are far older than that, and they are sworn to my service because I protect them, not the other way around. If one of them were to challenge me, he’d be dead before he got the words out. That’s how it works. Humans speak of leaders holding the lives of their followers in their hands, but with vampires, it is quite literally true. My vampires have blood in their veins and air in their lungs because I make it possible.”

Kathryn studied this new, serious Lucas. If all one saw was the public face, the handsome playboy charming his way through a crowd, it would be easy to underestimate Lucas Donlon. Fatally easy.

“How does it happen?” she asked softly.

He gave her a puzzled look.

“How does someone become a vampire? Is it like the books?”

“I suppose that would depend on which book.”

“All right. How did you become a vampire, then?”

“Ah. Now that’s a long story.” He reached out a well-muscled arm and flicked the tip of one of her nipples. “If you come back here,” he added, dropping his arm to her waist and tugging her toward him. “I’ll tell you.”

Kathryn gave a mock scowl and cupped her breast protectively, mostly for effect since Lucas never did anything that hurt her, not even in the deepest throes of their passion.

Lucas responded by leaning forward and taking the offended nipple in his mouth, kissing it gently and swirling his tongue over and around in a soothing caress.

“Better?” he murmured.

Kathryn could barely breathe. Some emotion she’d never felt before was squeezing her chest like a straitjacket. She stroked her fingers through his unruly hair, then nodded wordlessly, and let him tug her down into his arms. “Tell me the story,” she whispered, knowing, even as she asked, that she was playing with fire, that with every word that passed his sensuous lips, she’d be sucked deeper into the flame that was Lucas Donlon.

Chapter Fourteen

1801, London, England

Lucas Donlon sidled through the crowds in the busy square, his practiced eye searching for the next mark, the next fool. That’s what they all were. Fools. Clustered mindlessly around the opera house forecourt, without the sense God gave a mongrel dog. At least a dog was smart enough to guard its treasure, even if it was only a tasty bone.

He scrambled up to the roof of a nearby building and crouched low, smiling privately at the image of himself as a mongrel dog among the sheep below. He’d always wanted a dog, but when his mam had been alive, she hadn’t wanted the mess, and once she’d died . . . well, he’d had enough trouble keeping himself fed, much less a dog. And there was Dublin’s Constabulary to contend with. They’d tried more than once to throw him into one of those priest-run prisons for wayward boys. He’d preferred to take his chances on the streets. At least there he was free—free to keep the few coppers he managed to earn running errands for the whores who’d been his dead mother’s companions at the end of her life. Free to steal whatever else he could get his hands on.

Inevitably, he’d run afoul of the Constabulary one too many times and been forced to leave Ireland behind. And not without a few looks back, either. Ireland was his home, but he’d promised himself that he’d return someday when he was a rich man. He’d be wearing fine clothes and riding a beautiful horse like those his grandfather had owned. He only hoped that heartless old man was there to witness it.

Lucas pushed aside thoughts of the grandfather who’d left him and his mother to starve on the streets. The old man was An Tiarna of his own lands. His servants lived better than what he’d abandoned his own flesh and blood to endure.