A Hunger Like No Other

'I am, too.' Yes, she might have just spanked that Lykae, but it didn't mean she liked that she had to. And she didn't necessarily blame Cassandra for attacking. If Emma had seen a vampire strolling about the manor, admiring paintings, she'd have attacked, too. That did not negate the fact that this Cassandra was still a bitch.

Emma was shaken by the incident. All the training her aunts had forced on her seemed to have rushed to the forefront, finally clicking into place, and she'd felt like a different person. She'd actually won! Against a freaking Lykae!

Yet even as she felt like Frau Badass, she didn't forget the first staggering thought that had entered her mind when she'd suddenly hit the stone floor and found the Lykae standing over her.

Emma had wanted Lachlain.

And knew he would always come to her rescue.

He tucked a curl behind her ear. 'Ach, you've cut your wee ear.' He leaned down and kissed it, making her shiver. 'And your lip.' He kissed that as well, then stroked her cheekbone, and she couldn't quite feel the urgency she'd had that he shouldn't be touching her. 'I canna forgive her for marking you.'

'Fine by me,' she said in a surly tone.

'You had no fear down there,' he said, sounding impressed, and Emma had to admit that the next best thing to having Lachlain nuzzle her and kiss her wounds was him acting as if she'd just fought off Armageddon.

'What has changed you? Is it my blood?'

Record-needle scratch back to reality. The nerve! 'Don't flatter yourself! I've just realized a lot about myself. You know, having survived continuous Lykae attacks'—he flinched at that—'a sunbath, and a dissection via vampire, I've had to ask, 'Is that it? Really. Is that all life has to throw at me?' Because if that's the worst and I keep bouncing back…'

'Aye, I see. Your trials are making you stronger.'

They were. Damn it, why did he have to look so proud of that fact? When had he begun acting so differently toward her? She knew why she'd changed, but why had he? If he kept looking at her like this, she'd start wondering if she was strong enough to handle him.

'You woke well before sunset? I was just coming for you when we heard Cass.'

Emma had been up with plenty of time to shower—and to rant about the weird pang she'd felt to find that, for the first time, Lachlain wasn't there when she woke. 'I don't sleep well—in that bed.'

'Is that why I found you in the stairwell?'

Emma blushed. Dark and cloistered and cavelike, the stairwell had seemed like a good idea at the time. Since she'd been insane. 'Who's the woman?' she asked to change the subject, though she knew, had known at first sight.

'Cassandra. She's a friend from the clan.'

'Only a friend?'

'O' course. And that is tenuous, after she hurt you.'

'You'd take my side over hers? When you've known me for so short a time?'

He caught her gaze. 'I will always take your side. Over anyone's.'

'Why?'

'Because I know you will be in the right.'

'And the bleak one? Bowen? What's his damage?' At Lachlain's frown, she added, 'Why does he look so bad?' With his jet-black hair and intense golden eyes, the guy would be a hottie—if he weren't heroin-addict gaunt and evil-looking.

'He lost someone verra close to him.'

'I'm sorry,' she said softly. 'When did it happen?'

'Early eighteen hundreds.'

'And he still hasn't recovered?'

'He's gotten worse.' Lachlain rested his forehead against hers. 'It's our nature, Emma.' She knew he was waiting for something from her. Something more.

He'd seen her in her worst state, and he still wanted her. Seeing her like that hadn't stopped him from following her directly to kiss her ear and commiserate. This gorgeous, walking fantasy of a male wanted something more. From her. Was she ready to give it? She felt bold and high from her first victory, but was she ready to brave taking Lachlain into her body and to risk seeing the beast rise inside him again?

Right at this moment, she thought she might be.

'Lachlain, if someone like you were to…to make love to someone like me, could he be easy with her? Take things slowly?'

His body shot tight with tension. 'Aye, he could vow it.'

'He wouldn't…he wouldn't turn?'

'No, Emma. No' tonight,' he said, his voice so low and rumbling it made her shiver, made her nipples go tight. She needed him—desired him—knowing fully what he was.

When she raised her fingers and gently brushed the backs over his face, he gave her a disbelieving look before his lids closed briefly with pleasure. 'Lachlain,' she murmured, 'I struck you.'

His expression was unreadable. 'So you did.'

'Aren't you going to…retaliate?'

He groaned, and as he took her mouth, he lifted her onto the counter and pressed himself between her legs. His hands palmed her backside and yanked her against his unyielding hardness.

When she gasped, he touched his tongue to hers and she met him, wanting him to take her mouth deeply, to kiss her as he had that first night in the hotel. But it was better than even that. He was aggressive but masterful. He made her melt for him, undulating her hips up to his erection, seeking more.

He growled low, then rasped against her lips, 'I canna stand to see you hurt. I will no' let you be hurt again.'

She leaned forward, now kissing him, twining her hands in his thick hair. Her legs had wrapped themselves around him as he squeezed her backside, grinding her against him.

She attempted his buttons with tremulous fingers and made a sound of frustration. Instantly, he ripped off the shirt, and she wanted to thank him for displaying the muscles flexing and tensing beneath her palms. Aroused even more, shameless with it, she glided her hand down past the waist of his pants to grasp him.

He put his head back and yelled out, then snatched her sweater and bra up just above her breasts. He nuzzled her nipples, his breath hot against them, then suckled them until she thought she'd die with pleasure.

Screw the future and commitments and fears and whatever else. 'I want you,' she said on a breath, thumbing the moist head of his penis. When he took her nipple between his teeth and growled against it, she cried in response, 'All of you.'

He groaned against her damp breast, then rose up to face her with an incredulous expression. 'You canna know how much hearing that pleases me.'

With her free hand, she unzipped her pants. He reached down to pluck off her boots, then snagged the ends of her jeans and tore them from her with one movement.

Then he went back to kissing her as if he knew she would lose her nerve, making her arch her back to him as she ran her hand along his impossibly large shaft. Shuddering, he lifted her legs to place her feet flat on the counter. Spreading her knees wide, he pulled aside her panties, groaning at the sight of her bared flesh.

For some reason she wasn't embarrassed as he stared, his eyes dark and hungry. In fact, his gaze made her tremble, made her wetter.

'How long I've waited.' His voice was husky. 'Canna believe it,' he said, before taking her mouth so thoroughly, she was left panting and stunned.

He sucked one nipple, then the other between his lips to tongue them. Her hand squeezed his shaft, and her shaking intensified as her body throbbed for release. Why wasn't he touching her? Thrusting inside her? Why had she ever said to take this slow?

She was close, she felt it, on the verge of finally knowing the pleasure she'd never experienced, had only imagined.

Did he want her to ask as he had in the shower? She was no longer above it… 'Please touch me