Page 102 of Blood Match
There’s power here in his hold, power enough to crush or protect. Yet, for all his supernatural strength, there’s an unexpected gentleness to his touch. I’m safe here with him, but I’m confused by his unexpected appearance and this strange intensity.
“Darick?” I say again. “Is everything okay?” I can feel the tension radiating through his body.
He doesn’t answer immediately; just holds me tighter. I can feel his breath against my hair, cool and rapid. After a long moment, he loosens his grip slightly, allowing me to step back and look up at him.
His eyes are stormy with some unnamed emotion. “I needed to see you,” he says, his voice rough.
I cross my arms, trying to regain some composure. “You couldn’t have let me know you were coming? Or, I don’t know, knocked?”
A flicker of a smile crosses his face. “When have I ever done that?”
“Good point,” I concede. Now that there’s distance between us, I want to close it again. Which is insane. Everything about this whole damn situation is insane.
“I’m sorry for what I said at the meeting,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. “I was… out of line.”
I narrow my eyes, sensing there’s more to this than a simple apology. “Okay,” I say slowly. “But you already told me that, remember? When you broke my rules the last time. Is there something else?”
Darick rakes his fingers through his thick blond hair, a surprisingly human gesture for someone so ancient and powerful. “You’re right. It’s not just that,” he admits, but doesn’t elaborate.
I wait, but he remains frustratingly silent. “Darick,” I say, exasperated, “you can’t just show up here, crush the air out of my lungs, and then not explain yourself.”
He looks at me intently as if searching for something in my face. Whatever he sees there makes him sigh. “You’re right,” he says. “I owe you more of an explanation. But…” he hesitates, “I’m not sure I can give you one. Not yet.”
I cock my head, scrutinizing him. His usual mask of control has slipped, revealing something raw and vulnerable underneath.
“I’ve been…worried about you,” he admits, his voice low. “But it’s nothing for you to be troubled about.”
I open my mouth to object because how can I not be troubled now that he’s said that? But before I can form the words, Darick moves with that inhuman speed of his. Suddenly, his hands are cradling my face, cool palms against my flushed cheeks. His eyes search mine as if looking for something.
And then he’s kissing me.
It’s not like our first kiss in the grove, all heat and confusion. This is softer, gentler, yet somehow more intense. His lips move against mine with a tenderness I didn’t know he possessed, but there’s an undercurrent of desperation that makes my heart race.
I should push him away. I should demand answers. I should do anything but melt into this kiss.
But I can’t seem to make my body obey. Instead, I find myself pressing into him, my hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt. The world narrows down to just this: the feel of his lips on mine, the solid strength of him against me, the way his thumbs stroke my cheekbones so gently.
There’s a hunger in this kiss, but it’s not the bloodlust I’ve come to associate with vampires. This is something else entirely.
When Darick finally pulls back, I’m breathless. I blink up at him, trying to clear the fog from my mind. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated. There’s a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.
“Darick,” I whisper, not sure what I’m about to say. Ask him why he’s really here? Demand he explain his concerns? Or beg him to kiss me again?
He pauses as if deliberating over something, and then as if he’s made a decision, he moves. I gasp as he suddenly scoops me up into his arms, one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. I find myself instinctively wrapping an arm around his neck for support.
“What are you—?” I start to say, but the words die in my throat as he begins walking purposefully toward my bedroom.
Alarm and excitement courses through me. This is moving in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but I can’t bring myself to object. Would it be so wrong? We’re both adults. How bad could it be to take a little pleasure?
Or maybe a lot.
His strong arms cradle me securely against his chest, and I can feel the taut muscles beneath his shirt. The scent of him envelops me – earth and oak and something ancient, primal.
As we cross the threshold into my bedroom, I become acutely aware of how intimate this moment is. The soft lamplight casts a warm glow over the room, making everything feel dreamlike. My unmade bed looms large in my peripheral vision, and I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach.
“Darick,” I breathe, my voice barely audible even to myself. I’m not sure if I’m about to ask a question or make a request.
He looks down at me, his ice-blue eyes intense and unreadable. Gently, he sets me down, and I sink into the softness of my bed, my heart thundering as he looms over me. Eyes that have haunted my dreams roam over my body in a way that makes me shiver. I can’t look away, can’t even blink as I drink in the sight of him.