Chapter Sixteen
Could he hear?
His body was thrumming with the sound of her voice, the feel of her presence, and the view of her perfection. She didn’t need a mirror. There wasn’t a woman to match her. And the damn key wasn’t turning. He couldn’t see clearly enough. His hands weren’t working properly, either. Then she added to his torment with the feel of her body pressed against his back, her arms looped about his belly, holding him.
He’d been wrong on all fronts. This was hell.
“Iain?”
“Let go, Tira.”
“Why?”
“I need . . . a bit of time.”
She giggled. “You need time? You?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
To get these accursed woman tears banished back where they come from! He shook his head and concentrated on the chieftain chamber door, looking over the entwined vines, thistles, and thornbushes they’d carved into it. Yet, the more he worked at staunching the emotion, the worse it all got.
“Lass . . . you need to . . . let me go.”
“What if I say no?”
Iain pulled in a shuddering breath. “You ken I canna’ control it and what happens . . . and yet you torment me apurpose? To what end, lass? Well? You wish me begging?”
“Would you?”
Iain pulled her arms apart, spun, and glared down at her before blinking a tear trail into existence. He didn’t even care. But when he moved from her, he got more anguish as the step took him to his knees.
“Iain?”
“All right, lass! All right. You win! I’m filled with fear. I fear this existence without you. I’ll say it. I’ll shout it, if you like! I love you and I fear you’ll never forgive me . . . and then I’ll be damned to a worse existence than afore. There. I’ve said it! You’ve got me on my knees begging. What more can you wish of me?”
The last was sobbed and he detested that the most. And then she was on her knees facing him. He didn’t look to verify it. He could feel and sense her, and it stirred the very beast he was straining to keep caged.
“Iain?”
He shook his head, glared at the spot of floor between them, tightened every muscle in his body. He was not giving in to the power this time. No matter what the prevarication. He wasn’t.
“I’m not a morning person, anyway.”
“What?”
He blinked. Grimaced. Watched another tear drop onto the wood. He was still looking as the wood soaked it up.
“And—and that pallet of yours could use a bit of padding . . . like a mattress.”
Puzzlement wove through the other emotion, helping to calm and pacify it. Iain dared a glance at her and then jerked away as if scorched. She was too beautiful! Too beloved! A russet cloud of hair enveloped her, lit with torchlight he’d just sent to a blinding level. Her green eyes glistened with secret messages. Her lips were open just slightly, allowing fang tips to peek out. . . . The beast flexed and he held to it, curling forward into a hunched ball for the effort.
“A-a-and . . . I have my own demons to satisfy. My own passions. Cravings. Lusts.”
The roar consumed him, ripped from his throat to encompass the entire room. Iain fought with everything at his command but felt the grip slipping as his canines lengthened and prepared.
“Are you going to make me say it?”
“Lass, you have to move away from me. Now! You hear? Away!” The words came through teeth clenched so tight, his spikes jabbed his chin. The effort scorched every muscle into fire.
“Where?”
“Any . . . where!”
“What if I say no?”
Iain swore, lunged for her and had her beneath him, smashed between the unforgiving wood and his frame. Her clothes were missing as well. The knowledge barely made it through his senses since she held his face in her hands and was covering him with kisses and saying the sweetest words. Iain used the entire scope of his power to stall time, encasing them in a bubble of it so he could experience and store every bit of it. Forever.
“I love you, Iain MacAvee. I love you! I can’t imagine this world without you, either. It’s desolate and bereft . . . and I’d rather die! You hear me, Iain? I love you!”
“You love me?”
“Yes! And yes. And another yes! Desperately!”
“You’re sure? ’Tis na’ just the vampire speaking?”
“Oh, Iain. I think I fell for you the moment you claimed me at the ball. I just didn’t know it.”
“You truly love me?” Joy was radiating through him, tempering the beast, and then she added more sweet words.
“I love you! I just didn’t know what it was. Forever, Iain. I love you . . . and thank goodness you didn’t make me say it!”
He pushed up from her to slide his lips along her jaw to her neck. That’s when his breath caught in surprise at the way her hands delved beneath his kilt and shoved it open, gripping and guiding and making certain he got captured in her woman-place—exactly as she wanted.
She may have sent a cry from the throat he was lapping at before he sank his fangs in, but he didn’t hear it. He was experiencing such joy it slammed to the top of his head and near took it off. The strength of it ever-increasing, louder and larger, and so powerful it was impossible to experience anything else. That’s why he didn’t hear Grant pounding at the door, or his obedience to her words to guard the items until required, easily heard through solid wood. Everything was exactly as it should be.