Blood of the Maple

strong, thick chains and tie his ass to the bed until she could experience his brand of loving again. “Brian is a friend and, more important, your Renfield. He thought he’d hurt my feelings, and was apologizing. I was accepting the apology.”

“And can you accept mine?”

“You didn’t hurt me.” She stroked his cheek. “Far from it.”

“I acted like a caveman.”

“You acted the way your nature dictates. If I got angry with the robin for singing, what good would it do?”

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I’m more than my beast. I should have had better control than that.”

“Were you fully awake when you saw us?”

He grimaced, thoroughly frustrated and disgusted with himself. “No.” Not at all the look she wanted to see right after he’d made love to her.

“Well then. The beast took over and protected me from a perceived rival.” She shrugged. “You didn’t hurt Brian. You didn’t hurt me. Hell, I loved what we did. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Are you sure?”

She stared up at him. “Other than I think you should apologize to Brian for scaring the bejesus out of him for nothing? Yeah, I’m sure.” She tugged on his arm as hard as she could, enchanted when bones didn’t snap. He really is my match. “Can we go again?”

He blinked. “Again?”

“Yes.” She frowned when she realized his cock had gone flaccid. “Again.” Hmm. What could she do to make it nice and hard? She bit her lip and took a firm hold. She rubbed her thumb over the flared head, pleased when he growled his pleasure. Oh. There we go. He warmed up for her nicely, twitching and growing beneath her palm.

The first glimmer of humor appeared on his face, and Amara relaxed. “I think I can have another go at it.”

“Good.” Amara continued to stroke him until he was as hard as the first time. “Because I’m planning on this time being even better.”

He gulped. “Better?”

“Mm-hmm.” She flipped him onto his back and straddled him. “It’s my turn now, cowboy.”

“Yee-haw.” He grabbed her hips, steadying her. “Saddle up, pardnur.”

She giggled. It didn’t sound right with his upper-class English accent.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes.”

“Hmph.” An evil grin crossed his face as he wiggled his fingers at her. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.” And Parker proved once more that he was strong enough for her. The last guy who’d tickled her had wound up in the hospital with a broken hand. Parker wrestled her down and dug in. He ignored her squeals. He stopped most of her kicks. He proved he was much faster than she was, blocking her hands in an eyeblink before returning to her sides.

“Stop!” She was reduced to breathless begging, laughing so hard she could barely speak.

“Say the magic word.”

“Please!”

“Yes!” Parker collapsed next to her. “I doubt you’ll make fun of my Southern accent ever again.”

He thickened his accent so much she started giggling all over again.

His fingers danced over her skin, not quite tickling her once more.

She latched on to his wrists. “No! Uncle. I give. You’re the epitome of a Southern gentleman.”

“Thank you.” He folded his arms under his head and crossed his ankles, totally relaxed. His cock bobbed against his stomach, still hard. “By the way. Why are you wearing your shirt?”

She glanced down and, sure enough, her shirt and bra were still in place. She took them off and tossed them over the side of the bed. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she turned on her side and curled up against him, ready for a nap.

“Sleepy, sweet?”

“Yeah.” She was, more than she’d thought. The man had managed to wear her out.

Parker rubbed the spot he’d bitten her, all traces of humor gone. “You need some orange juice first?”

“Mm-mm.” She didn’t want juice. She wanted Parker. When he went to get out of bed, she grabbed him and held him down. She draped herself over him, one leg between his, one arm over his stomach. She wiggled until her head was under his chin. “Stay.”

He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her close. “My pleasure.”

Amara drifted off, serene in the knowledge her vampire would be there when she woke up.

Chapter Five

Parker waited until he knew for certain Amara was sound asleep before slipping out of the huge, Craftsman- style four-poster bed to explore the room. He had to bite back a grin at that. Greg was right. Chickie has a four-poster. The simple, elegant bed rested on dark hardwood floors and was topped with a pearl-gray, checkered comforter. The walls were a grayish-purple, the ceiling painted a paler shade. Double doors led out to a Juliet balcony currently covered over by thick blackout curtains and a turquoise wing chair and white table sat by the window, the table piled with books.

He liked it. It suited her. It was simple yet feminine, uniquely hers. The only thing he could see changing was the overdose of purple; he’d love to see some other, more masculine colors. The turquoise chair would be an excellent starting point since he favored blues and greens and, apparently, so did she.

“Parker? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The whispered voice of Brian, through the door, reminded him that he had some apologizing to do to his poor Renfield. The man must have been terrified when Parker went feral. He’d have to make sure to make it up to him. He glanced ruefully at his torn pants. No way would they stay up.

“Here.”

He looked up at the soft whisper to find Brian’s arm sticking through the partially open door, a pair of jeans dangling from his fingertips.

“Thanks.” Parker pulled them on and stepped into the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Brian was grinning. “You saw me touch your singele sotiei. Of course you lost it.”

“How did you know?”

“The same way I knew the words of the casuta. I’m a Renfield. It’s my job to know.”

Parker was impressed. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Parker shook his head. “I haven’t heard those terms from someone else’s lips in years.”

“Being a Renfield in Maggie’s Grove is an honorable profession. We’re trained in how to take care of our vampires. We all learn that singele sotiei are precious. We understand that and your reactions to them and how to deal with you when you’ve gone too far to control yourself.”

“What’s he talking about? And why the fuck did you go all Bram Stoker on us? You’ve never done that before.”

“He’s never had reason to before, has he?” Before Greg could respond, Brian continued. “Singele sotiei means blood wife, literally. The one person Parker’s beast can bond to, who will be with him for eternity. Sometimes that relationship is sexual. Sometimes it’s less. Sometimes it’s more.”

Parker had the feeling that with Amara it would be more.

“And casuta? What does that mean?”

Parker winced. Greg was going to love this one. “Obeisance. It’s the ritual soothing of the beast, lets him