“Oh well, if it’s in a novel it must be a fact.” His lip curled in the corner. “You realize you only need to ask me if you have questions.”
“You realize you aren’t the most forthright vampire.” Which was the understatement of the century.
His brows pinched. “I will always answer you honestly, Amelia.”
The cool water lapped around our bodies, stinging at my skin. The sun’s rays swarmed across the horizon, white light spearing through shades of pink and red and blue. Birds chattered in the treetops. The peace of the forest felt as though it existed outside the answer to one question I needed an answer to. One question that had plagued me since the night in the library. One image that came to life like a horror slideshow.
“Why didn’t you tell me they called you The Death Bringer?” My voice came out small against the forest.
His hands tensed slightly on my waist and he stared at a point over my shoulder, lost in distant memories, anguish flickering through his eyes, before he dropped his gaze back to me. “What you read is not all true, but a lot of it is. What happened is not something I regret, but nor am I proud of it.”
“What parts aren’t true?”
“I did not, nor will I ever murder children,” he grated, muscles cording on his neck. “It was the witches who slaughtered their own children to gain power. I found out about it and turned up to save them, but I was too late. The childrenhad already been murdered. I killed their entire village for it without mercy.”
“They blamed you for all of it?”
He nodded slowly.
“You never corrected the records?”
“No, why bother. Witches wrote most of what you read. They run the library and invite us in to make it look as though they are peacekeepers. It is nothing but smoke and mirrors.”
I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be accused of something so horrific as murdering children and everyone believing you did it. “You’re not a monster.”
“Oh, I’m a monster.” Fresh anguish and disdain grated through his tone, as if he was disgusted by himself. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of.” His throat bobbed, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve done things I wish I could change.” He brushed hair off my face. “I wish with all my heart I could change,” he repeated. “Do not think I’m a good man, Amelia, because I am not.”
The way he was looking at me, as if some deep and terrible memory twisted inside him, I wanted to reach in and untangle those broken pieces until they were all put back in place again. I wanted to ask him what he’d done that was so awful it drowned his light.
“Don’t,” he said, his tone laced with desperation as he read my mind. “Please, do not ask.”
The last thing I wanted to do was push and cause him more pain. “Maybe you are a monster sometimes,” I said gently. “But you’re my monster, and I love all the parts of you.”
His eyes fluttered as if each word stroked his heart. His knuckle grazed softly down my cheek. He didn’t respond for a long moment, then finally he rasped, “I do not deserve your love.”
I could hear it in his voice, the grief and anguish of feeling like he didn’t deserve to be loved. His past didn’t matter to me. I knew his heart, felt his soul, I saw the light and dark parts that existed within him, and I loved him anyway.
He closed his eyes and held his breath as if he was waiting for my response. My fingers ran through the back of his hair. The Death Bringer—no, I corrected the words—the Vampire King shivered under my touch. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, so you’re stuck with me, vampire.”
A small guttural sound rolled up his throat. The kiss he pressed to my lips was not hard and demanding and ravenous. It was slow and soft, as if he wanted to savor every moment of my lips, every flicker of our tongues touching. I melted into him, his hard groin throbbing against my stomach, and heat rushed through me. He shifted his weight back a little and his hand slid between my legs. I opened them for him. His finger brushed lightly back and forth across my clit, and a moan slipped from my mouth. He dipped his head, planting gentle kisses across my shoulder and up my neck while his finger kept moving in soft, agonizingly slow circles. I clutched at his ass and his back, trying to pull him closer.
“You feel so good.” His breath was hot in my ear as a finger slid inside.
His words did something to me and I made a pathetic whimpering sound. Karson’s darkening eyes studied me as he slid two fingers in, rubbing back and forth, and my whole body went red hot and tight.
I reached for his cock, running my fingers over his hard length. A sound of ravenous desire erupted from his lips, drowned as he took my mouth, kissing me hungrily.
When he stopped kissing me, we were both panting, and I was practically shaking with desire.
“Do you want more?” he murmured, pulling his fingers out and working my clit again.
He knew I did. My fingers feathered the tip of his cock. “I want all of you.”
His hands shifted to under my ass and he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He groaned and the kiss deepened. I arched my hips against him, and he groaned again, deep and primal, the sound curling through the pit of my stomach down to my groin.
His cock edged at the tip of my core. He paused, dark, lust-born shadows in his eyes as he stared at me. I needed to feel him inside, needed the two of us to become one. Binary stars, joining. I wasn’t sure if I said the words out loud or he heard them in my mind—he could read my mind even without my ring on when my emotions were heightened, like now—but a smile edged the corner of his lips as he nestled his head against my mine and murmured, “Binary stars.”
The words washed over me, touching my heart, playing a beautiful tune like a lover’s song. His cock throbbed against my groin. The need to feel every inch of him inside drove me to near madness. I bucked my hips and his cock slid in, stretching me, filling me with heat. The feeling of him was exquisite, and I gasped with the pleasure as I nuzzled his neck, before our mouths clashed again, devouring and sucking and licking. He began to move, and I used his shoulders to meet each thrust, increasing the friction. We were panting as we rocked against each other, his breath hot as he moaned my name into my ear.
