Dark Needs at Night's Edge

20

Once she'd finished dancing, Néomi floated to the chair beside Conrad's.

The thoughtful vampire had pulled up two of them in front of the fire. He continued to treat her like a woman instead of a ghost. He opened doors for her, and though she could never take it, he often held out his hand for her.

Little things like this increased his already devastating attractiveness.

"Conrad, what was it like in the Kapsliga?"

"Regimented," he answered shortly, no doubt predicting where she was headed with this.

"Was it terribly difficult to abstain?" She'd been prying to uncover more about this part of his life. She was probably as tenacious at this as he was about the key. Or as he had been.

No longer did he ask her to retrieve it—because his brothers had stopped coming.

She suspected Conrad felt let down that they still hadn't returned. It must prey on him, wondering what had happened to them. Though he'd never admit it.

"Why are you so curious about this?" He swigged his whiskey. Though she might've expected him to take from the bottle, he drank it neat from the glass, and slowly.

"Because I want to know more about you."

"Then why not ask me about the Great War, about our greatest victory or shrewdest defense—"

"Because I am also a female?"

"I can't argue that." He lifted his glass to her. "Ask what you will."

She made like she was sitting. "Did you abstain only because of your vow?"

"You heard my brother—Wroths keep their vows. That would've been enough. But there wasn't much temptation anyway. Healthy women near the front line were scarce. Especially any who weren't already obsessed with Murdoch." He contemplated the whiskey in his glass. "And the end was in sight. Service in the Kapsliga is from the age of thirteen to thirty seven. I only had a few more years left."

"I'll bet you were counting down the days."

"When there were lulls in the war, I did." His brows drew together. "But then I died."

"There was never a girl that struck your fancy? You never fell in love?"

"There wasn't any time even to contemplate emotions like that. I fought in battles all day and then warred with vampires each night. Survival was foremost on everyone's minds." He took a drink, his gaze turning distant for long moments. Was he reliving those horrors even now? Just when she was about to prompt him back to the conversation, he blinked and asked, "What about you? Did you love the oil man?"

"Not at all." And he hadn't loved her. That night when Louis had wielded his blade, Néomi had understood him better than she ever had. Louis had been frenzied not because he'd needed to be with her but because he'd wanted to punish her. No matter what sentiments he'd spouted over her body, he'd murdered her out of spite.

"The men you were with—did you love any of them?"

"I had great affection for them. But no abiding love for them."

"Why couldn't they win you?" He leaned forward, as if her answer was very significant to him.

"Oh, they didn't do anything wrong. I just never found my match."

"Did they... satisfy you?"

If they hadn't in the beginning, they had eventually. "I made sure of it. I wasn't shy about what I expected or needed from a man." He raised his brows. She could tell he was eager to question her about her words, but she wanted to refocus on him. "Conrad, how did you handle the physical need?" When his face flushed, she said, "Oh, I see."

"A lot," he admitted in a husky voice.

"Were you terribly curious about what it would feel like?"

He hesitated, then met her gaze. "Still am."

She exhaled a slow breath, for once thinking she might be in over her head with a man.

Néomi had thought she could easily handle Conrad, because men had never given her fits before. And she was experienced while he wasn't.

But Conrad Wroth wasn't an average man. He wasn't even a man, really. He was an immortal male who'd never had a female—when he'd clearly wanted to. She sensed a volatile passion inside him, just waiting for release.

How she wished she could be the woman who tapped into it! She'd never lamented the lack of a body as much as she did right now.

"Did you never touch a woman intimately? Never even... kissed a single time?"

His shoulders tensed. "That's enough questions. I've told you I don't want to discuss this subject with you."

He hadn't. "Why not talk about this?" Mon Dieu, no woman has ever even given him her lips. "Does the subject embarrass you?"

"Should it not?" He glanced away and grated, "Would any man want a beautiful woman to know this about himself?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say comments like that are your way of flirting with me."

He scowled. "My way. As opposed to the regular way a man with more experience would go about it? I think you seek to keep me on edge about this. You like that I'm never able to settle in with you."

"Conrad, that's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Mais oui. I'll say this plain. If you were able and I were able, I would be seducing you, right at this very moment."

His fists clenched, and his lips parted, exposing white teeth and those sexy fangs. "You love to tease me, don't you?" He rose and strode to the window, glancing out into the tumultuous night. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

"I never do." This male was a sexually untutored, six-and-a-half-foot-tall, gorgeous immortal. And she was desperate to have him. There was nothing but truth to that.

"Then you're attracted to me because I'm all that's here."

"That's not so." She rose, crossing to him.

"Isn't it? Then am I similar to the men you used to bed?"

"Not in the least."

"Then why would you want to seduce me?"

She hadn't expected that question. "It's because I've never been with a man like you that I desire you."

His scowl deepened. "A red-eyed vampire?"

"A strong, virile male with large muscles I long to sink my fingers into."

He turned to set his glass on the windowsill, but she saw him swallow. Then he faced her, advancing, looming over her. As she'd done in the shower, she retreated until she reached the wall.

Raising his bound hands over her head, he again surrounded her with his body. "What if I wanted to do the seducing?"

He would. He was so deliciously domineering. "Why are you always caging me in?"

"Maybe I wouldn't, if you weren't always disappearing. You're as tangible as air, and it's so damned frustrating, koeri."

"What does that mean?"

"It means lure."

She blinked up at him. "Your endearment for me is a synonym for bait?"

"You're luring me from madness." Lowering his voice, he said, "The only thing that could possibly tempt me from it."

She nibbled her bottom lip. "Would you follow me anywhere?"

"Into the sun." Conrad was all intensity. These weren't practiced sentiments—these were words he couldn't contain. "You said you'd teach me how to seduce my Bride. I want my first lesson."

She couldn't think. "Lesson?" He was too attractive for his own good. "Oh, yes. Well, if you had your female in a position like this, you could compliment her."

Staring down at her, he said, "So I could tell her that her eyes are striking? That I think about their color all the time?"

"She'd really, really like that. And then you could cup her face, and maybe brush her bottom lip with your thumb."

The muscles in his arms bulged, and she knew he was clenching his fists above her head, wanting to touch her. "And how would I know if she was interested in me?"

"She'd probably wrap her arms around your neck to hold you close," Néomi said, but she kept her arms to her sides, her own hands in fists. She yearned to twine her fingers in the too-long hair at his nape, ached to touch him in any way. But she couldn't and never would be able to.

I can never feel those muscles flex as he works my body over the edge. Can never see that exact moment when any control he has deserts him and he's helpless to his own lust.

Néomi would never be able to enjoy him—she selfishly didn't want any other woman enjoying him either.

"And then what should I do?" His voice seemed whiskey-roughened and smoothed at the same time.

She felt as intoxicated as if she'd drunk it with him. "You'd meet her gaze, then lean in to brush your lips against hers."

"Brush my lips?" He was getting as caught up as she was, his natural reserve faltering. And she loved it. "What if I wanted to do something harder?"

Harder? Yes! She stopped herself. "But most females would want a measured seduction. You'd have to wait, to prolong it. But when your lady gasped, then you could take her mouth more forcefully."

"How?"

"Slowly slip your tongue inside, and tease it against mine—hers, rather." She shook her head. "Against hers."

He was rubbing his tongue over his fang, making her want to melt. "Tease?"

"Y-you can drive a woman wild from just a kiss if you do it right. Think, um, slow build."

He moved in even closer, until they were sparking electricity between them. "When would I get to touch her?"

As she stared up at his eyes, she saw them not as blood red, but as the red of flames. "If she moans, you could touch her neck. Maybe run the backs of your fingers from her ear down past her collarbone, then lower to the beginning swell of her breast. And if she likes that a lot, you might try following the same path with your lips."

"And then?" he rasped.

"What does your instinct tell you?"

"My instinct tells me"—his consuming gaze flickered over her ear, then dipped to her collarbone and lower to the swell of her breast—"to keep going down. To do whatever I have to in order to get my lips on your breasts. Her breasts."

Imagining that had Néomi subtly arching her back to press her chest up. "How would you kiss them?"

"I'd kiss all around her nipples, dragging my lips over her skin. Would she like that?"

"She'd probably be cradling the back of your head, moaning."

"Then I'd close my lips over one of your nipples—"

"You mean her, your Bride's."

He shook his head slowly. "When I think about kissing anyone, I imagine you. Only you. I can't pretend that this isn't so."

"That pleases me, Conrad. Because I don't want you kissing another woman," she murmured.

"Why?"

"I'd be jealous, wanting to scratch her eyes out for kissing my vampire." He frowned and opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "Je suis sérieuse. Now tell me what you'd do to me next."

After seeming to determine whether she was telling the truth, he said, "I'd take one of your nipples between my lips, sucking it in... ."

"Hard?" She gasped the word.

"Do you like that?" When she nodded, he didn't stifle his groan. "Then I would suckle it hard, licking you with my tongue at the same time."

Her eyelids threatened to slide shut. He was so sexy and manly. All intensity. How could she ever have been attracted to soft, docile businessmen with their yes, darling mentality? "I've fantasized about how your lips would feel on them."

A short, rough sound erupted from him. "I try to imagine what your breasts would feel like from what you'd shown me."

"Do you wish you could touch them, too?"

"God, yes," he quickly answered, then flushed.

"Do you think about them a lot?"

He briefly inclined his forehead near hers. "Some minutes less than others."

She gave a throaty chuckle, and he seemed surprised that he'd amused her.

"What would you be doing while I kissed them?" he asked.

"My hands would be rubbing all along your back."

Her eyes fluttered closed when he drew his hands down to reach for her. His palms were so big, fully covering the outline of her breasts.

She moaned softly when she felt tiny electrical shocks over every inch of them. "I'd sigh from the way your muscles worked beneath my hands. Then I'd clutch your hips to signal that I wanted more of you." He raised his brows at that, and she murmured, "I'd be getting desperate for you by this point."

"So you wouldn't stop me if I"—he swallowed and his voice dropped an octave lower—"if I tried easing my hand up your dress?"

"Stop you? I'd place your hand on my panties."

He gave another groan. "I'd hook my finger under that black lace and pull them aside." He'd clearly been thinking about more than just what her breasts would feel like.

"Conrad, I'd be wet for you."

The deep rumble of his voice had turned to a husky rasp. "I'd be so fucking hard for you."

"Would you want to bite me?"

"Yes," he hissed. "Would you let me?"

If he needed, she would give. "I'd deny you nothing."

"Then I'd take your neck and your breasts. I'd bite your white thighs right above your stockings."

Intense male. She stifled a whimper. "We're doing it again, exchanging comments, bandying."

"Like dancing."

She shook her head and whispered, "Like sex."

He stared down into her eyes, making her feel like she was drowning in fire. "Néomi, you make me want to be blooded. But only by you."