No, you won’t. I’m here. I won’t let you break. He moved his fingers upon her, and the sensations spearing her were violent, tumultuous. With a sound somewhere between snarl and sob, she twisted in his arms, surging up to find his mouth, not caring that his fang caught her lip, bringing a new taste of her blood. She wrapped her arms around his back as she scrambled around until she was straddling him, her knees planted into the ground on either side of his hips. She clawed at his T-shirt, finding bare skin and then ripping into him with her short nails. She bit his mouth in return, earning a growl and his hand on the back of her skull, holding her steady.

She fought him, now trying to get free, even as she continued to rake at his flesh. She wanted pain and punishment; she wanted to be driven completely out of her mind into that place he could take her. She wanted to do things that she’d imagined only in the darkest part of her soul, and when she was done, she wanted to be so humiliated by her own actions she’d never look at herself in a mirror, as if she’d become a vampire, turning herself into something that had no reflection, no reminder of what she once was.

She was crying when he put her on her back in the soft grass. He held her down, held her body with his body, kept her arms pinned out to either side as, instead of ravaging her, he kissed her, soft, gentle. She snapped at him, cried out her anguish and pain. Still he kissed her. Forehead, temples, eyes, down to the mouth again, over and over, until she was shuddering, trembling so far inside she thought she’d never stop. But she no longer fought him.

He made it clear that he was in control of this boat, no matter how stormy her seas. He was at the tiller and he would keep it going the way he wanted to go. As he continued to linger on her mouth, then whispering over her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her rage became such deep emotion, she was lost in it. But not in darkness. At least not that kind.

She lifted her eyes, stared into his brown ones. The proud face, the fall of hair over his forehead. She’d seen glimpses of his mind in this volatile moment, knew he’d worried that giving her the kittens’ care might enhance her grieving, but he’d followed his instinct, hadn’t he? Since the day she’d stepped off the plane, he’d tried to teach her how life was supposed to be, how it followed its natural course if the mind would just get the hell out of the way. If she let herself accept the pain, the joy, everything life had to offer, she’d experience what Jeremiah never could. Clawing her way to that belief was the best way to remember him, honor him.

She understood that, could see the light of it, but it was so far down the tunnel from where she was in her mind, she didn’t think she had the courage to make that walk.

You won’t do it alone. Mal’s voice, his thoughts.

I’m alone there. I don’t know how to come to you, toward that light.

Then I’ll come to you. And you’ll take my hand, and I’ll lead you back to it. I won’t let go, no matter how much you tear up my back or bite me, little Irish flower. I’m used to cats that claw and bite.

Reaching between them, he slid her panties off, rising up to open his jeans. She trembled harder, swallowing, not sure. But then he was covering her again. Keeping her warm and sheltered . . . not lonely.

Her body knew better than her what to do, for it was wet and willing for his entry. He slid into her, inexorable, working his way through the tight tissues until he was seated all the way in, his testicles pressing against the crease of her buttocks. Her body shuddered for an entirely different reason, and he saw it, his eyes darkening further.

Since Jeremy’s death, he’d touched her body only. This time he was at the gate to her heart and soul, and he wasn’t going to be denied. He was there, lodged inside of her, connected. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. The gouges would heal, but she could feel the stickiness, where she’d scraped skin down to the blood that beat through him.

“I’m lost,” she whispered. “And I’m afraid.”

“Call me what you know I am, Elisa. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

She stared at him, understanding the significance of the request. The leap of faith, the belief that she could trust. That he, a vampire, would give her sunlight, until she found her way out of darkness again.

I’ll be in the darkness with you. I won’t leave you alone there.

Her breath was shortening, for he withdrew, then slowly slid back in, working those tissues that responded to him so immediately. Her body knew. All of her did.

“Master.” She stammered a little, not sure, but he put his lips to her cheek, moved his body on hers, inside her, again. A slow, rhythmic movement, in, out, his buttocks flexing with precision under her heels as they slid shyly up his thighs to rest on the curve of his arse. His arm slid beneath her, holding her banded that much more closely to him. Deeper thrust, even more devastating penetration, bringing pleasure into the grief, making it painful and yet something she couldn’t stop.

“Master.”

Yes. He nipped her shoulder then, scraping her with a fang, flexed his body to leave a wet, hot trail along the curve of her breast, his agile tongue licking so close to an aching nipple. Your Master, Elisa.

“Ah . . .” The rhythmic thrusting was bringing a climax, sweeping out from her sex to her lower abdomen, speeding up her heart underneath his mouth. His fingers convulsed on her wrists, now pinned again as he underscored the point.

Let go of your thoughts, Elisa. Submit to me; surrender all of it to your Master. Your pain and pleasure . . . it’s all mine.

She fought it; she had to do so. But he wouldn’t be thwarted. She remembered the question she’d asked him that night at Lord Marshall’s, if he would take her fiercely because she was his property. He’d said yes.

And you said, “Good.” It did such things to me to hear that, Elisa. Your glorious, sweet submission. Your willingness to be mine. To let me have you, care for you. You will come for me now. With everything.

The pain and pleasure, the grief and joy both.

“No . . . I can’t.”

You can, and you will. You will obey me. Always. Now.

He was right, because the reaction sped up through her, overriding her fears and objections. It knocked her planted mental feet from beneath her, transforming that tunnel into a hill. She tumbled down it, toward the blinding light she couldn’t face, but he would give her no other choice.

She cried out, her hands straining under his hold, body arching up for him, and when he moved over her nipple and drew it in, suckling, she detonated. One orgasm crashed over the first, even as tears ran down her face and her heart felt like it might explode, spiraling among too many emotions and needs, everything from the past few weeks coming together in a way she couldn’t resist. They were all gone, they’d left her, but not him. He was still here.

He came inside of her during the worst part of the storm, and she needed it, that heated flood, the sense that he was still with her, marking her body as his. When he finally came to a stop, easing his hard thrusts that pushed her against the grass, made her feel his strength, he put his mouth over her trembling, tearstained one, and ended as he’d begun. With those gentle kisses. One after another, they captured her sobs, took the tears off her face. His hands tightened on her wrists and he drew her back up into her straddled position, staying inside of her, connected. As he wrapped his arms around her, held her flush against him, she buried her face in his neck and cried until she had nothing left, letting it all wash away.

42

SHE hadn’t said yes. Mal was all too aware of that. She’d stay with him because he’d said it would be so, and she’d submitted to it. Her grief and pain had been too thick. It would take time before she reached the point that the acceptance was fully embraced from her side. She would need to work through it, truly believe it was the way things were meant to be. Believe in him and what he wanted to give her. So he told himself.

He was not going to dwell on the fact she hadn’t told him she loved him in return. He knew she did; he could read her mind, saw all the evidence of it. She just hadn’t said it, was all. Damn it, he was not thinking about it night and day like a schoolboy.

The most important thing was that she was getting better. She was feeding the kittens and joining the staff for dinner again. Though she listened more than participated, her eyes thoughtful, her mind sometimes going off into space, she was there. After she ate, she often came and knelt inside the span of his feet, leaning her head against his knee. She was coming to him for comfort. When she came to his bed at dawn, it became as much about catharsis as lust. During the night, when she was doing chores that required more physical exertion than thought, her mind was too idle. That accumulation of grief needed to be lanced in his bed.

Often she’d fight him, in a way he was sure she’d never done in her life. She made him overpower her, take her down and push her into that zone where there was only mindless surrender. Then afterward, when she was more peaceful, she was closer to the Elisa he knew, asking him questions about what had happened that day on the preserve, and telling him little tidbits about the day she and Kohana had shared on the compound.

He took her out with him every several days, but even when he wasn’t with her, he talked in her mind. At some point, she started talking back, showing rare glimpses of her humor.

A slow thing, but healing was happening. He would not be impatient with her reserve. He couldn’t take her all the way with his will alone. He could get her to the edge of the tunnel, but she had to be the one to make the final step into the sunlight. She was the human one, after all, and the sunlight was where she could walk, not him. But in those shadows, he could be whatever she needed, and he made efforts to be sure he was, the vampire world be damned.

So things were going better. He’d even told Danny that, and she’d wisely not pried at the edges of that optimism. Then around midnight one evening, he received an urgent message from Kohana. He was needed back at the compound. Now.

“She walked out the door without saying a word to me, crossed the yard, opened up the front gate and planted herself there.” Kohana nodded toward the nearby clearing where Elisa squatted, staring up at the night sky. The Indian sat on a stump placed against the fence, his shotgun at his side as he worked on oiling a set of door latches. “I told her to come inside the fence. She told me to leave her be. It’s damn disturbing to see her still like that. Usually she’s everywhere at once and I can’t get her to stay in one spot.” He gave Mal a narrow look. “You upset her again? What does her head tell you?”