Death Calls. Caridad Pineiro

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      “Don’t push me away, darlin’. I know you’re scared, but I am, too. In all my life, you’re the only woman I’ve ever…”

      Ryder didn’t finish. Instead he buried his head against her midsection and wrapped his arms tight around her like a supplicant embracing his reason for being. Then he shocked her by kissing the scar along her ribs—a product of the drive-by shooting that had killed her father.

      Diana closed her eyes against the sudden threat of tears and the constriction that closed her throat. She cradled his head and stroked his hair, trying to ease his pain. Trying to curb her own.

      She might tell herself that she was afraid of what was happening with them. Of how he invaded her senses and her mind. She might even delude herself into believing that she could make love to him tonight or any other night and walk away whenever she wanted. But in her heart, she suspected that what she felt for him she would never feel for anyone else.

      She wasn’t sure she could live with that, but she couldn’t deny him, either.

      She made the next move. She parted the fine black linen to reveal his chest. Nothing marred the pale expanse of his skin. If anything, his muscles were more defined than when they’d first met. His body leaner, more…powerful. The energy seemed to pour off him, calling to her.

      She laid her hand above his heart. It beat fast and a little erratic. She wanted to believe its hurried rhythm came from her touch.

      “I don’t regret…us,” she whispered. Funny, but it was the truth despite her doubts. He was her damnation and her salvation.

      “Let’s not talk about this now. The night is short and…I don’t want to spend it…”

      Burying her head against his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. Her embrace shook loose something inside of him.

      He needed to make it impossible for her to deny that this was real, no matter how many doubts both of them now seemed to be having.

      It was sweet torture, the feel of her breasts skimming his chest. Her warmth slowly worked its way into the cold of his body. The heat of her passion drove the chill from his skin.

      She tugged him toward her bed. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

      She wore her false bravado face. Funny how he could recognize it so easily. Funny how he wanted to drive the fear from her until she truly welcomed him into her bed. Invited him into her heart.

      “Can you deny it’s what you want, as well?” he said.

      She couldn’t lie to herself. She needed more of him. She always needed more even if she refused to give a name to that desire. Even as she wondered if it was a result of some vampire head game, much as Foley had suggested.

      Ask me to touch you, he said.

      Why?

      His demanding reply came swiftly. Because I need you to want me as much as I want you.

      “Dios, Ryder. I need you.”

      Slowly, way too slowly, he lowered his hand until it rested on top of the nest of curls between her legs. She pressed her hips up, urging him on. He breached the edge of her panties and unerringly found her center.

      Beneath his fingers, Ryder experienced the pull of her. The scent of her arousal perfumed the air, so strong that the vampire within begged for a taste. He had lost the battle last time. He wouldn’t allow it to happen tonight. If the animal came…she might hate him—or herself—for surrendering to the demon.

      He dropped a trail of kisses along her body. She opened her legs, knowing his intent and welcoming it. He slipped between her legs, brought his mouth to her sensitive nub.

      Her hips arched in acceptance.

      Her wetness—slick against him—and the smell of her…the heat…He groaned and she held his head to her.

      He lost the battle.

      The change surged over him. It was almost too much. The smell of their sexual musk. Her racing pulse reverberating in his ears. Her nether lips, wet and flush with blood. The demon imagined feeding there, at her most private of places.

      He gasped at the roiling passion making his loins ache and looked up at her with his vampire face. Fangs exposed. Eyes glowing. Skin flushed and warm.

      Diana stared at him. His arms were braced at her sides, shaking. Shoulders heaving from the force of his breaths. His rough, harsh pants reminded her of a lion at a zoo, caged. The human in him was barely keeping the animal behind bars.

      In her mind, suddenly, she saw herself as he did. Her breathing. Sharp little pants. His teeth, sinking into her swollen flesh. Blood, rich with life. Passion. Flowing through both of them. Charging them. Her strangled cry of pain followed by pleasure that would rob her of herself.

      She nearly climaxed from the images. The vampire in Ryder wanted her to desire his bite, so he could do as he wished. So he could control her as Foley had warned.

      She shook away those thoughts and with years of self-defense skills, reversed their positions. She drove down onto him before he could continue messing with her mind. With her heart. Riding him to slake the burn, to draw out the human, to make him Ryder again and not the beast.

      As she locked her gaze with his and moved on him, the demon fled. Ryder’s eyes became their intense dark brown once more, losing their demony glow. Only his fangs remained, as if he couldn’t muster that last little bit of command.

      “I won’t bite again,” Ryder promised.

      Long minutes passed before she finally answered, “I know.”

      Without waiting for more assurance he flexed his hips and shifted upward, bringing her to the edge.

      She followed his growl of release with her own cry of completion. After he cradled her in his arms. But earlier conflicts and fears rose up faster than the passion that had overwhelmed them.

      When she had first met Ryder, she had sensed that he was a loner. A man who had suffered great loss and somehow endured. She understood such loss and the strength it took to overcome it. Like Ryder, she carried scars within her that hadn’t healed.

      Back then she’d thought that two injured people didn’t bode well for a happy ending. And now, after tonight, she realized that continuing her life with Ryder…

      “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

      A tremor ripped through his body again. He snatched up the clothes strewn across the floor and dressed, his movements stiff. Irate.

      “Ryder?” She heard fear and indecision in her own voice. And an indefinable something…caring, possibly love. She was too confused to know anymore.

      He didn’t answer. So she provided her own.

      “I need some time.”

      A barely perceptible nod of his head acknowledged her request before he returned to her open window and fled into the night.

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