Chains of Frost: The Bellum Sisters 1 (33 page)

His hands shaped her breasts
roughly and her sex pulsed in answer. He kissed his way down her stomach, over
her hips and thighs. Slowly, he opened her legs, pushing his big body between
them.

Chloe panted as he pressed soft
kisses followed by gentle bites up one thigh, then the other, never touching
where she wanted him the most.

“I love being down here.” His
voice was guttural. “Your smell, your taste. The way you come apart as I tongue
you. I could do it all day.”

One thick finger slid inside her.
Chloe’s nipples hardened even more. In and out, he stroked. Tempting and
filling her with something that was a reminder of something much longer and
thicker that she wanted so desperately.

“Tyrian, please,” she moaned. His
tongue passed lightly over her folds, then dove in with a dexterous move. He
licked her bud once before pulling away.

“What, my sweet? Don’t you like
it when I suck you? When I prepare you for my cock?”

Chloe let out a ragged breath,
her body tense as a bowstring. “So much, Ty. Please take me, just take me.” She
was so empty inside.

He chuckled against her wet
flesh, the sound purely masculine. “I think not yet, Chloe. I would taste you
first. Make your pussy wet and open for me.” Chloe moaned at his words. Her
body flooding with sparks of pleasure.

His finger dragged out of her
flesh before thrusting back in. A moment later his lips kissed her bud, the
touch so gentle it was like a feather caressing her. She writhed against him,
thrusting her sex against his lips. Yet he only teased her more and more.

Sweat beaded her forehead. She
breathed like she was running a mile, and all the while his caresses were so
gentle and light against her.

“Tyrian!”

He lapped at her once, teasing
her bundle of nerves with what could be. “What, my sweet Chloe?”

“Please, let me come. Please.” Sweat
formed on her brow, her hips trembled against him.

He sucked a fold in to his mouth
and Chloe’s body tightened with pleasure, cream coating the finger he slowly
thrust inside her. Finally, slowly, his tongue caressed her bud. He licked her
lazily, excruciatingly slow. His fingers squeezed and released her inner thigh
like a cat kneading. His touch built her up to a trembling, unimaginable
precipice.

They created a rhythm. His slow
licking, her hips arching against him, his finger thrusting inside her.

“Tyrian, Tyrian,” she chanted,
her head spilling side to side. Suddenly, his tongue worked faster.

Chloe screamed as only he could
make her do. Waves crashed inside her, her body strung tight, and then snapped.
Her harsh cries echoed in the room as her hips rolled against him, intense
pleasure flooding through her.

He gentled his tongue, easing her
back down to Earth where she panted for air. He gave one last lingering lick
then pulled away.

“You are beautiful.” His husky
voice sent shivers over her. “Come here,” he said, and picked her up.

He wrapped her legs around his
waist, set her core above his rigid cock, then pressed her down onto him.

“Perfect. Wet and open, just for
me.” Chloe tried to say something, but couldn’t form words. As he entered that
last inch inside her, she moaned, writhing against him.

He did all the work. Lifting her
and dragging her back down over his hard rod. She memorized the feel of him,
the way he spread her open until she felt split in half. The way he hit her so
deep, pressing against the center of her nerves where only he could reach.

Chloe dragged her eyes open.
Sitting face-to-face with him brought the intimacy of the moment that much
closer. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her, and he brought her
down on him harder, faster.

Chloe swung her hair out, baring
her neck. In a husky whisper she said, “Take from me.”
My love.
His eyes
flared hot, his wet lips parted and she saw the white glint of fangs.

Her core contracted at the sight.
He cupped her neck gently with one strong hand and slowly leaned down to her.
He kissed her skin reverently, his tongue darting out to taste.

“Lovely,” he breathed. Chloe
flexed her hips against him, riding his cock, loving the way her core rubbed
against his groin, heightening the pleasure even more.

A sharp press teased along her
skin and she stilled, her breath freezing so she could feel every moment of it.
He sank in slowly, by centimeters until his lips pressed hotly against her
neck. She felt the full drugging sensation as sure as she felt his cock pumping
in and out.

Suddenly his grip on her
tightened and became hard and thrilling. He swung them around, planting her
back against the bed. His hips hammered into her, dragging through her
sensitive tissues with mindless ecstasy. His hands curled in her hair as he
drank and drank.

Chloe scratched at his back,
feeling trapped and utterly pleasured, and knew she drew blood. One hand
reached down, cupped her ass, and lifted her into his thrusts. Her release came
rushing. Her vision blanked and all she knew was that her body shuddered and he
was groaning, his cock growing thicker inside her. Hot sprays jetted inside
her, coating her walls and mixing with her own release.

She didn’t want it to end. Wanted
it never to stop. His thrusts slowed, her sheathe drawing every drop from him,
and she felt him twitching inside her. His breath shuddered as he withdrew from
her neck, his tongue darting out to lick the wounds he’d made.

Her heart felt like a balloon
filled so full it was about to pop. She tightened her hold around him and
whispered, “I love you.”

His body stiffened over hers.
Chloe froze too as she realized what she’d done. He pulled back and she had to
let go even as coldness settled in where his warmth had been. He stood at the
edge of the bed, his expression inscrutable.

“What did you say?” His voice was
harsh and edged with anger. Chloe’s heart galloped in her chest, but she raised
her chin. She’d just dug her bed and she’d lie in it too, because she did love
him.

“I said, I love you, Tyrian.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Words
spoken in passion. You don’t mean them.” Whom was he trying to convince?

“No, Tyrian. I said it in the
aftermath of passion if you’ll recall and I meant every word of it. I do, so
much.”

Jerking, he took several steps
back. Chloe reeled forward, panic settling in.

“Please, don’t be upset. It’s
okay if you don’t feel the same. Maybe one day you will or maybe not. I can
live with that.”
I think. I hope.
“You don’t need to worry, this changes
nothing.”

His hand slashed at the air.
“This changes
everything.
” Chloe shivered at his tone and for the first
time since she met him, felt truly scared. He looked murderous, feral. He
stalked to the dresser and pulled on clothes.
Please say something,
her
watery eyes pleaded with him.

When he finally did speak, his
voice was freezing cold and devoid of warmth in his eyes and body. “You’re
going back to your old room immediately.”

“You can’t mean---”

“Stop it!” he whispered harshly.
“You will do it or I will find you a new Protector.”

Chloe reeled back as if slapped.
“You can’t do that. I was left to you. You can’t.” He stood and marched for the
door, every bit the commander in his steps.

“I can do anything I want. I am
Tyrian en Kulev, leader of the Atal Warriors and what I say is law in this
castle. You will get out or I will have you thrown out, Ms. Bellum.”

A harsh sob broke through her
throat. He looked at her with complete indifference, then opened the door and
closed it quietly behind him.

Chloe curled up on the bed as hot
tears came, sobs pouring out.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

This was not the way Chloe Bellum
pictured she’d die.

She hadn’t seen Tyrian in three
days—since the night he left her. She’d relegated herself to her former
bedroom, which now felt colder than even Tyrian’s dismal bedroom. She’d had one
conversation with Lily but then had sent her away. She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t pretend that
everything was okay, because it wasn’t. Even Lucinda had stopped by to inquire
over her health—she’d lied and said she was fine.

This only made her feel worse.
She hated lying. One lie lead to another to another… Her gut hurt to a near
excruciating level. Was it because she was dying or because something bad was
coming?

She hoped it was the latter
because dammit, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live in this ridiculous
castle that had open windows and cold floors and sleep next to the vampire she
loved.

The lethargy she felt deep in her
bones was overwhelming. She’d never felt anything like it. Did all beings feel
differently when they died?

When she was younger, she used to
wonder in moments of morbid curiosity how she would die. She’d envisioned being
murdered by demons, vampires, another succubus—all it would take was one lop of
the head. She’d even pictured grand events, like would she survive a nuclear
bomb? She seriously doubted any of the supernatural beings could. But who knew?

Now she was in the middle of
dying. She hadn’t been ‘fed’ in three of the longest days of her entire life.
This was not how she wanted to die.

And now she was in a battle of
the instincts. Her instinct to survive shouted at her to take any man, even a
teensy weensy orgasm from him, or even a quick lay, and she’d be back to
feeling well in an instant. But the thought of taking another was so appalling
that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. And she’d fully thought it through
during her recent bedridden days. She’d considered the different warriors who
might help her and what she might possibly be able to stomach.

None of it would work. She was in
stupid, stupid love. Where was her damned demon? Was it done coming after her?
The last she’d heard from Telal and Rayn, the demon was amassing some sort of
army from below the rift.

“God, Lily, what did you get me
into?” she muttered into her pillow.

That’s it. She was going to do
it. She’d been thinking about it all day. She had weighed her choices between
dying and finding another. She really didn’t want to die. Dying at 29 because
she was too scared to ask some male she didn’t know for help was just
embarrassing.

What had her Papa told her when
she was young? Making out, giving or getting orgasms, or sex would work. Her
cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Geez, Papa could still embarrass her from
the grave.

Chloe sat up in bed and the room
spun around her. She waited until it settled before she put her feet on the
floor. Her legs trembled and she used the bed for support to lift her up.

Chloe didn’t know how long it
took her to reach her bedroom door or to find her way down to the castle’s main
floor, but she was sure it was over an hour. At least that’s how it felt. She
was panting with exhaustion. Her skin was clammy with sweat.

She had to sit at the bottom
stair and hang her head for a few minutes before she was able to finally move
again. She looked everywhere, ready to find any warrior. Her eyes were wide,
heart beating with fear. Was she already too late?

Would she finally find some
warrior to make out with only to fall dead at his feet? A door opened at the
end of the hall. She spotted thick, short hair.

“Rayn!” She’d meant to scream,
but it came out as a hoarse croak. Bless the warrior though, because he turned
toward her, his face pulling into a deep frown. He was in front of her in a
second.

“What’s wrong, Chloe?”

“Dying.” God, did that sound
dramatic, but it was the truth.

The warrior’s face paled. “Let me
get the Commander. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Shaking her head, Chloe said,
“No. He won’t. Hates me. Please, kiss me.” Her heartbeat sounded abnormally
loud in her ears and Rayn’s voice sounded far away when he spoke, as if he was
still at the other end of the hallway. Tears filled her eyes. Please don’t let
me be too late.

“I can’t kiss you. You’re the
Commander’s. You’re under his Protection. He’d kill me.” Chloe might have
smiled bitterly if she could. Instead, she fumbled forward a step and he caught
her by the arms.

“Hates me. Please, Rayn. Help
me.” Her throat felt scratchy and tight like it’d been scrubbed with a bar of
Lava and then buffed with some sandpaper for an added touch.

Rayn looked her over with a
grimace, probably taking note of how awful she looked. She hadn’t exactly had
time to spruce herself up in the bathroom before she got here.

Finally, he nodded. Carefully, he
wrapped his arms around her waist. His frown deepened. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Kiss me.”

Shaking his head, he brought his
lips down to hers. There was no instant healing in his kiss. But the room
stopped feeling like she was in a kid’s Etch-a-Sketch being shaken all around.