Rebecca Zanetti: Claimed

He stared at her through half-lidded eyes, his hands going to unbutton her cotton shirt.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“I don’t want to get blood on your shirt.” His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts over the plain white bra. Fire flared within those silver depths and she fought a moan.

“That’s enough.” She covered his hands with hers.

With a nod, he gently placed her hands on his thighs before clasping the shirt and drawing it down both arms. The lower buttons remained engaged, and the material trapped her arms at her sides.

He pinned her with a gaze so full of hunger she couldn’t speak. “You’ll give your blood?”

Emma nodded, her focus narrowing to the man before her.

Sharp fangs emerged from his canines and he growled, reaching one arm around to cup her head and pull it to the side. Her neck stretched and vulnerability battled with arousal down her length. Every muscle in her body tensed to flee. His other hand gasped her hip, flexed, then slid up to her bare shoulder, entrapping her.

There was no escaping him.

Tugging her closer, he buried his head in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. She tensed, waiting for the pain. Instead, he pressed one tender kiss to her rapidly beating pulse. She felt it to her core.

He inhaled, running his mouth along her collarbone and up to her ear, where he nipped. “You smell like spiced rum and peaches.” He breathed against her skin, his hands holding her firmly in place. “Some dreams I could smell you, but not this strongly. Never this fully.” He rose up, drawing in a deep breath. “Never so much I’d do anything to have you.”

Quick as a whip, he struck.

His fangs pierced her skin. Emma cried out, shutting her eyes.

Her blood boiled.

Raw need flared her flesh to life and a hum began deep in her core. Without caring enough to stop and think, she pressed against him, so hard, so full. His mouth pulled harder, and her nipples pebbled into pinpoints of need. Something contracted in her womb, begging for him. He drank more, and she exploded into a thousand pieces. The room sheeted white as an orgasm tore through her with the force of a furious tornado. She went limp, held upright only by his hands.

Sealing the wound, his tongue lashed across her skin and she shivered, nearly dazed. He held her in place and lifted his head away from her, his gaze piercing on her heated face.

She should be embarrassed, but a warm haze clouded her vision, her brain.

“Emma?”

She lifted heavy lids to focus.

His eyes burned hotter than molten steel. “I want you.”

“I know.” She sat on the proof of his desire. Hard and throbbing. “But we just met.” Hours ago.

His hands slid down to cup her hips, pulling her closer along his rigid length. “Have you dreamed about me?”

“Yes.” She fought a groan at the warm strength grasping her even as desire began to heat again.

His gaze dropped to her needy breasts, and his hands flexed before he looked back up. “For how long?”

She glanced away, evading his question to see the bullet holes close into healthy flesh and the large wound from the tree stitch together until disappearing. His chest appeared as if never injured. “You’re all right.”

“Yes. I asked you a question.”

She’d say the arrogance returned with his healing, but really, had it ever disappeared? “I’m aware of that, Dage.” The breathiness coating her voice ruined the sarcasm.

He released her to grab his discarded shirt and wipe the remaining blood from his skin. “Then answer me.”

She shrugged. “Fifteen years or so.” Since she’d hit puberty.

Pleasure filtered across his strong features, and he tossed the shirt away. “I’ve dreamed about you for two hundred years. I’d say we’ve known each other for quite a bit of time.”

She grinned. “Is this your way of making a move?”

His eyes darkened to zinc. “No. This is.” One large hand covered her breast and flexed.

She gasped, fighting the absolutely insane urge to rub against him.

Desire and intent filled his eyes. His free hand clasped her hair and pushed her mouth to his. Pure raging fire slid through her veins as the immortal made his move.

Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, he tasted at his leisure, pressing her further into him. Her mind spun, her breasts ached. Almost as if he knew her thoughts, he swept one callused thumb inside her bra, sliding across a turgid nipple. She moaned into his mouth, both hands clutching his strong shoulders closer.

He deserted her lips, trailing hot kisses along her jawline to her neck, where he nipped. Leaning back, he slid her shirt down farther, his clever hand flicking open the front clasp of her bra and sliding the sides apart. His eyes flared hot and hungry before his head dropped and he drew one hard nipple into his blazing mouth.

She moaned, her hands clenching his hair, drawing him closer. Oh God. Pure wanton need shot through every nerve, clamoring together in a craving only he could satisfy. He suckled, sliding his hand around her waist to plunge into her jeans and cup her ass. Rough and warm, he kneaded.

Wait, something tickled the back of her mind. Something there ... “Dage!” She pulled back, her breast leaving his mouth with a soft pop.

“What?” he growled, clearly disgruntled, moving back toward her chest.

She tightened her grip and yanked on his hair.

He stilled, danger flashing through his eyes. “What?”

“Your hand.” She gulped in air, trying to focus, trying to dispel some of the need. “Your hand.”

“What about it?” He pulled free to glance at it.

For answer, she released his hair, grabbed his hand and flipped it over, curling the fingers of her hands around the edges. A raised crest, intricate and black spread across his palm. Lines crossed and swirled, and a thick K rose through the design. A smaller version of his tattoo.

“The marking,” he said, his voice deepening to a rumble.

“The marking,” she affirmed. They needed to get a couple of things straight right now. Her visions never lied, and she had to protect them both. “I’ll not be branded, Dage.” She swallowed rapidly, trying to clear her head.

He raised an eyebrow. “The marking only appears when we touch our mates, love. I drank your blood, and it appeared.” His jaw firmed. “You will be marked.”

Her temper stirred to war with desire. “No.”

His full lips quirked. “I should’ve known the Queen of the Realm would be a pain in my ass.”

The queen? She cleared her throat. “I’m no one’s queen, Dage. Not a chance.” She shifted against him, her eyes nearly rolling out of her head at the delicious friction.

Reaching out, he placed one warm fingertip against her chin and traced a path straight down, inch by slow inch until coming to a stop above her left breast. His hand flattened, pressing against her heart. “You sure about that, love?”

The traitorous little organ gave one hard thump against his palm. “Yes.”

He wet his lips. “Well then, how about tonight is just about tonight?”

“Tonight?” She rocked against him. “What about the Kurjans?”

“They’re nowhere near us right now.” He lifted his head and inhaled as if seeking answers from the universe. “With any luck they searched toward the eastern mountain range, which is why we made a beeline to the south. We have a couple of hours before we need to move. So, tonight?”

Tonight sounded good, and the added thrill of danger caused shivers down her spine. Dage had haunted her dreams for years, she deserved one night. Just one. “All right. But no marking or invading my thoughts.” He could never know what her visions had revealed.